To Be a Prep
by One On Infinity
Summary: [Full Summary Inside] Boarding school. It's here. In a place where you might be hooking up with the kid across campus and hate the kid across the room, watch how the South Park teens will be forever affected by choices made in anger, joy, and love.
1. One Must Get Accepted

**A new idea came out and punched me rather savagely in the stomach, so I had no choice but to satisfy it or I'd run the risk of being horribly maimed. Oh, well. I hate these little author note things, so I'm just gonna get on with it.**

**Summary: The time has come for some South Park high schoolers to run off to Shelton Prep, the Colorado boarding school for those who wish to 'seek a higher level of education'; in other words, who want to escape their own run-down public schools that have a lower college acceptance rate than inner-city Denver's worst PS. But just because the surroundings have changed, don't expect the wild students who go there to do the same. In a world of freak junior sororities, two-timing boyfriends, forbidden crushes, break-ups, hook-ups, and the occasional killing of Kenny, South Park's "elite" will learn exactly what it means to be a prep.**

**Way many pairings, some combining SP characters with OC, some not. I'm not gonna tell you the pairings though, because it's _a surprise... _Rated T just because. I don't know, seems teen-ish. No slash, I suspect, unless I happen to change my mind about something. Which I might. Written in third person. You'll notice a particularly angst-y part with Kenny and his parents in this chapter. Just had to get it off my chest. Also, my spell-check sucks. I'll fix stuff as I see it, but there will be some typos.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own South Park. **

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_**To Be a Prep**_

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**One Must Get Accepted**

Open mailbox. Remove the whole stack of patiently waiting envelopes. Begin flipping through, slowly, make sure that you don't pass it.

The same thoughts had been going through the boy's mind for days, always starting when he reached the mailbox. He didn't know why he was so worried. They had to accept him. He was the brain of his posse, of his entire school, plus he was an athlete. How could they pass him up?

Logical thought told him that he'd have to have been convicted for a felony, possibly multiple times, for them to reject him and his extremely impressive application. But illogical thought started to overcome him every time the envelope failed to enter his waiting gloves.

_What could I have done? Was it that time in 5th grade? Or what about 7th? What about last year? Oh, God, they think I'm a liability! They probably don't want to endanger their students by letting me within 100 yards of the campus! I'm going to have to reason with them. I'll call, we'll set up a meeting with the committee, I'll explain that it was all Cartman's fault, and everything will be resolved! But-_

All thinking ceased as an envelope with a fierce looking falcon in mid-flight emblazoned across the center came under his scrutiny. It felt thick, full of papers. He felt his heart lift a little. Would they send _that _many papers to a reject? Surely not.

He carefully opened the sealed letter, hands surprisingly steady. A wad of about 10 or 12 papers fell into his hands. He unfolded the one on top and began reading:

_Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Shelton Preparatory School for the upcoming school year. On behalf of the whole staff, I, Head of School, Dr. Jay Lowells, would like to applaud you for your excellent application and interview. It is an honor to become a part of this great establishment, and you have proven that you are everything we look for in a student._

The letter continued to explain how happy they were for him, what a great opportunity he had given himself, how he was sure to enjoy Shelton and all it had to offer, etc. He didn't even care how all they could do was send him a cheesy, generic congratulations that another 100 kids were probably opening at that moment. All he cared about was that he, 14-year-old Kyle Broflovski, would not be another scum-bag, drug-using, not-college-bound, doomed-to-be-lower-class graduate of South Park-fucking-High.

He knew he'd get in. He _knew _it. Of course, he'd kind of started freaking out at the end, but that was a real pressure situation! But, honestly, how _could _Shelton pass him up? He got the highest grades in South Park's junior high along with Wendy Testaburger, both of whom were never really challenged by the mediocrity of the school system. And, along with Kenny McCormick, he'd led South Park's junior high soccer team to it's first winning record in years. The only reason they hadn't made the playoffs was because Kyle had sprained his ankle right before the deciding game and Kenny was killed in a freak accident involving the Gatorade cooler and the team bus.

Thinking of Wendy and Kenny reminded him that he needed to check to see who else had made it. He ran into the house and picked up the cordless phone in the kitchen, then bounced up the steps into his room. Locking the door, he dialed Stan's number.

"Hello, you've reached the Marsh family!" Sharon Marsh's recorded voice chirped. "To leave a message for Randy, press 1. For Sharon, press 2. For Shelly, press 3. For Stanley, press 4." This separate message system had come into being after Shelly had one day declared that her messages were far too private for, "Her parents or turd brother," to listen to, and had threatened to delete all messages besides her own if something more private was not installed. Kyle, accordingly, hung up. Stan said it was too much trouble to have to dial a voice mail number for his own house and then enter a goddamn password to hear people telling him to call them, even though most likely he would have called those people anyway.

Stretching out on his bed, Kyle allowed himself to feel... _pleased_. Every year, the kids of South Park and every other hick town just like it applied to Shelton Prep in a bid for freedom from said hick towns. Kyle, like many before him, realized that the only hope for him was to get a diploma from somewhere, _anywhere, _other than South Park High. Stan said that 14 was too young to be worrying about the rest of his life, but when Kyle asked if he really thought he could get anywhere after graduating from South Park, Stan simply shrugged and said, "Well... working at a gas station is _somewhere, _right?"

Kyle dialed Stan's house again. "Hello, you've reached-" Kyle growled angrily and hung up. They all needed to get fucking cell phones.

He wondered how his mom would take the news. He guessed lukewarm. His mom, always the one pressuring him to do the best he could, would be ecstatic that her little Kyle had gotten into, "a highly respected academy," which was how she'd phrased it to Gerald when Gerald was skeptical about letting Kyle apply. However, the fact that Kyle would have to board there – living away from Sheila! - would probably half ruin his mother's excitement. Oh, well. He'd be glad to get out.

Kyle went back to flipping through the papers that Shelton had sent him. He'd been hoping to find some information on who he'd be boarding with, but the only place where the dorm situation was addressed read: _All information regarding dorm rooms and partners will be released at a later date._

"Hello, you've-"

"Goddammit!" Kyle hung up for the third time, then decided to call Kenny. The phone just kept ringing until the operator came on and told Kyle that if he'd like to make a call, he should hang up and try again. Kenny's house didn't even have an answering machine. Resigned to boredom and sheer curiosity, Kyle dialed one number that he never called with much pleasure.

"Yes, Jew, I'm in."

"That's a nice 'hello', fatass. When did you get caller ID?"

"I didn't get caller ID," Eric Cartman replied flatly. "I just got my letter, oh, I don't know, 10 minutes ago? A call from you was expected. And no, I haven't heard from the fag," - Stan - "because I'm guessing that's why it took 10 minutes to hear from you instead of 20. Why would I hear from him, anyway? He's your Super Best Friend. Although I'm just as sorry as you are that he's not answering, because that makes you a burden on me. Are we done?"

"Thanks for the chat," Kyle sighed and hung up, looking down at the phone that sat in his hands, which sat in his lap. Over the years, not much had changed between him and Cartman. At the same time, it was almost like everything had. He was still anti-Semitic, anti-hippie, anti-black... pretty much anti-anything, as long as it made look like more of an ass. But for some reason, Kyle found it hard to absolutely hate Cartman with the ferocity with which he had hated him years ago. Of course, the time still came when if someone handed Kyle a loaded gun, there would be no question about whose fat skull it would be emptying itself into. But still, Kyle could feel that something – he had no idea what – had somehow changed.

His fingers were moving over the buttons that represented Stan's phone number, and the phone raised to his ear had to say "Hello?" about three times before Kyle's brain registered that someone had finally answered.

"_Hello?_" an agitated Stan said again.

Kyle shook his head clear. "Dude, where've you been? Never mind, don't care. Did you-"

Stan sighed, cutting him off. "_Yes, _Kyle. I guess you did too?" 

"Well, yeah, finally, I mean it only took for-"

"Kyle, I want you to shut up and listen to me. Listening? Okay, now I have been telling you since you mailed the damned thing that you were a shoo-in."

"But-"

"STOP! And I was right, wasn't I? So I want you to take a deep breath and say 'Stan, you were completely right, and I never should have doubted you. I also shouldn't have been such a little dick in my unwarranted nervousness. This includes refusing to eat beans at your house that one night because I thought that if they _called_ to tell me I was accepted, I would fart so loudly that they would fear I was a terrorist trying to infiltrate and bomb their school campus. Which I honest to God, actually said. Even though they wouldn't call your house anyway, since they don't know we know each other.' Got it?" Stan said, in all seriousness.

Kyle ignored him, "Well, how could we not have gotten in, honestly? We're both athletes, we're – well, I'm – pretty damn smart-"

"Proud and confident _now_, are we?" Stan taunted.

"Shut up, assfuck. You know what my mom would have done if I didn't get in. You would've been pretty damn nervous if you were me, too!"

"Oh, I know. I just wouldn't have been such a little pussy about it."

"What-"

"Oh, come on Kyle," Stan said, "Do you think just because we're officially in now means that I'm _not_ going to totally bust on you for the past 3weeks? Even when it was mildly annoying – which it consistently was – it was pretty damn funny to watch."

"I just thought you were a more accepting friend, is all," Kyle grumbled. Stan could feel his pout through the phone and laughed.

"Not to worry, all piss-lick moods have been forgiven, just not forgotten," Stan remarked. "And we probably _would_ have to be fucking retarded to not get in. I mean, how do you not get into _Shelton Prep" _He pronounced the words as some might say 'juvenile detention'.

"Yeah, either that or we couldn't make the down payment of-" It was going to be followed by the sum of money, which Kyle probably would've pulled out of thin air since he couldn't remember the cost of going. But all that followed was a stunned silence, as one thought never even considered possible dawned on them.

"... do you think?" Stan began, slowly.

"There was no answer before..." Kyle hesitated.

"Should we go?"

"Meet you in 10 minutes."

Both boys hung up, their mood effectively killed.

----

Stanley Marsh and Kyle Broflovski met outside Kenny McCormick's house, the former arriving 30 seconds after the latter. Kyle stood, panting, his green ushanka – which was lighter in color than his emerald eyes – pulled clumsily over his curly red hair. It was very simple – Kyle was not a fan of his hair, but he loved his hat. Therefore, it made sense for him to wear his hat. Kyle had remained relatively skinny, although he did have a bit of muscle because of soccer work-outs.

Stan, also, still favored his blue and red-puff hat over his shock of black hair; however, pieces of it stuck out at random intervals, which actually looked pretty good. He pushed a strand out of his navy blue eyes, glancing at his friend. Stan was stockier than Kyle – always had been – and was slightly taller.

"Dude, you need to get in shape. Your soccer season's coming," he taunted. Kyle responded with a raised middle finger.

They stood on the sidewalk outside, unwilling to go any closer due to the amazing amount of noise that came from inside the tiny, dilapidated home.

"...drunk bastard!" Kenny's mom screamed from inside.

"Aw, stop bitching, ya lousy whore!" Mr. McCormick yelled back, obviously drunk (he normally was), but not so much that he couldn't form sentences, that much was evident.

"Don't you ever-"

"Do what? I heard that you's been sleepin' aroun' more than Liane Cartman lately! You's lucky I don' run you outta this damn house!"

"Well, good luck doin' that, 'cause I'm leavin'!"

"You can't go nowhere!"

But she could, and she was. 10 seconds later, an infuriated Mrs. McCormick stormed out of the house, ignoring Stan and Kyle completely. She yanked open the door on her run-down car, slammed it shut, started the engine, and was reversing out of the driveway by the time Kenny's dad reached the door. He shouted vulgarities that were drowned out by the car's screeching tires, then retreated into the house. Kyle and Stan glanced at each other; they knew what came next.

"Boy! Not you, dumbshit, your brother," rang through the house. 'Dumbshit' was Kevin, Kenny's older brother. Kenny must have answered, because his dad continued to talk. However, he wasn't screaming, so Kyle and Stan couldn't listen in. Then, "Don' you talk to me like that! I run this house, ya hear! You're not gonna be like your whore of a mother, I'll be damned if you're gonna act like her. You're my son, ya hear!"

Kenny's "Get off!" was audible through the walls.

"Hell, you look just like her-" It was true, Kenny physically resembled his mother more than his father, save the hair color- "and you're like a little devil kid, always dyin' and shit. What's the matter with you? I should've straightened you out a long time ago, boy. DON' YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!"

Kyle peered at Stan, who was gazing intensely at the ground. It was no secret that Randy Marsh's alcoholism had worsened over the years, and Kyle had a suspicion that his home life – while better than Kenny's, surely – was getting worse.

Just then, Kenny came stomping down the front step's, blue eyes blazing with anger. His dad reached the door just after him, sporting a bloody nose.

"Don' you bother comin' back! THIS IS MY HOUSE! MY HOUSE!"

Kenny off-handedly ignored his raving dad, nodded to Stan and Kyle – their signal to follow – and continued down the sidewalk. The boys gratefully ran after him.

Kenny may or may not have been the best looking boy in South Park, but he certainly put his looks to use more than others. His orange hood still had a home over his head, but he wore it loosely, normally, one might say, no longer blocking his entire head. In the presence of females, it generally sat on his shoulders, showing off his sexily-messy blond hair and sapphire eyes. As he was with his guy friends, it was on his head.

The next couple of minutes passed in silence. Kenny's angry steps subsided into slower, more relaxed ones. He sighed, "Guys, spare me the awkward silences and sympathies after every time you show up during one of their moments." That's how he referred to them; moments. "It's been this way since I was born, I'm pretty sure. It's not a big deal." He smiled. "I liked it better when we were younger and if I even complained a little about it you would tell me to stop being a pussy."

Kyle and Stan's faces both broke out into wide, remembering grins. "We were little assholes..." Kyle laughed.

"Were?" Stan and Kenny said at the same time.

Kyle ignored them, as was his habit. "Remember in 4th grade when you died for a while, and we wanted to build-"

"The ladder to heaven," Stan finished.

"Just so we could get that candy ticket," Kyle added.

"Oh, stop with the memories, it's making my heart all achy," Kenny mocked, placing a fluttering hand over where his heart was.

"So, Kenny," Kyle started. Stan abruptly stopped laughing. Kenny looked from one to the other, suspicion in his expression.

"What?" he finally asked.

"Did you, you know... are you going to Shelton?" Kyle looked up at Kenny, his hope filled green eyes meeting Kenny's now dull-looking blue ones.

"I've said over and over, I can't pay for it," he explained, in a bored tone.

Kyle and Stan looked almost petrified. It was true that while they were hanging out, the boys were pretty rough on each other. And, God forbid anyone getting weepy, they might have admitted to taking Kenny for granted, just a little bit – not everyone had a friend who could die on Monday and be in school on Tuesday, healthy as ever. But the prospect of being split up was, in truth, terrifying.

"But, Kenny, you can't _not go!" _cried Stan. "What are you going to do – stay here?! Who would you hang out with?"

"Other people do like me, you know. And without you around, Mr. Quarterback, I think _every _chick here would want me, instead of just almost every chick. But I never said I wasn't going. I just said I couldn't pay for it."

"Kenny, how the hell-" Kyle started suspiciously, but Kenny shrugged and cut him off.

"Don't worry about it, Kyle. I'm going, okay?"

Kyle wasn't satisfied, but he knew there was no way to get something out of Kenny that the blond was resigned to keeping a secret. To make himself feel a little better, he shoved Kenny in front of an oncoming tractor and watched as the 8-feet-tall tires made Kenny-juice with a kind of boredom.

"Oh my God, dude, you-"

"I know."

To think they were just repenting taking Kenny for granted.

----

The emergency meeting had been called at exactly 3:07 PM, mountain time. And it was, do not doubt, a complete and utter emergency. That was why it bothered Bebe Stevens so much that Wendy was late.

She tapped her manicured nails impatiently on the kitchen counter, staring at the door. They could not begin discussing without Wendy there. It would totally go against every unwritten code that the group of girls had established over their years of friendship.

Then again, being this late to an emergency meeting also went against those codes.

Finally, the door burst open, revealing a frazzled looking Wendy.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, it's just..."

"Don't waste time on excuses, this is an emergency! Everyone else is upstairs."

The curly-headed blond rushed up the stairs into her room, slamming the door behind her friend. Already in the room was a sobbing Powder, accompanied by two other shattered-looking girls, Lola and Heidi.

"H-how... can I g-go... a-all alone?" Powder wailed, her make-up streaming down her face. Lola gave her friend and tight hug. The red-haired Powder burrowed her head in her friend's shoulders. Bebe turned to a confused Wendy and whispered, "Powder... she... she didn't make it." Tears welled up in Bebe's eyes, and she threw herself into the circle of crying teen girls.

Wendy, however, was rooted to the spot.

This, she told herself, could not be happening.

The Fab 5, consisting of herself, Bebe, Heidi, Lola, and Powder, could not get split up! Not now, not for high school! High school was, as everyone said, the best years of their whole entire lives. And to do it, to go through them – with only 4 of the 5 present? Oh, no. That just wouldn't work.

What had Shelton Prep seen in Powder that made her unacceptable? Surely, the other girls (besides Wendy, of course, the intelligent one) weren't all _that much_ smarter than Powder. And Powder was marginally athletic, just as much as the others. Why were they mailed 'yes' and she mailed 'no'? What could they do?

"We can't be the Fab _4_, that's just so, like, common!" Heidi screeched. And even though it made no sense whatsoever because four and five both sounded alright in front of 'Fab', Wendy found herself agreeing. She joined her friends, and the tear-fest continued.

"We all know what we need to do. It's time for sacrifice, to show what our friendship is made of. It looks like we're going to South Park High," Lola announced dramatically, tears burning her eyes.

"Oh... and I was looking forward to going to boarding school, too!" Bebe said. Heidi nodded. Powder cried. But Wendy just stared, open-mouthed, suddenly out of tears, at Lola. Did she say... _not go? _Wendy loved Powder and everything but... to _not go _to Shelton?

"Wait. What?" she asked.

"Well, we can't go, now that Powder's not. We can't separate," Bebe explained, sniffling.

"Agreed," Lola said.

"Separating would, like, suck," Heidi chirped, just to say something.

Wendy paused. Were they serious?

"Um... Powder... maybe you should go blow your nose, or take your make-up off," Wendy said, adding a little shove as Powder scampered off to the bathroom, her sobs growing fainter as she left. As soon as she was gone, Wendy started in, "Now, I know this is very traumatic, girls. No one expected this. We thought we'd be together all through high school. But we can't not go to Shelton!"

"Why not?" Bebe asked.

"That would mean, like, splitting! Permanently!" Heidi cried.

"Yes, probably. But think about it this way – Powder _wants _us to go!"

"No, she definitely doesn't," Lola proclaimed. She was half-Puerto Rican, which accounted for her darker skin and chocolate brown eyes, but her hair was uncharacteristically light brown, probably due to whatever other nationality she was.

"Wendy, you aren't honestly thinking about breaking the first rule? I mean, we based everything off of that!" Bebe said.

Right. The book of unwritten codes that the girls had lived by since the group was first formed. And the first one stated, in so many words, '_The Fab 5 always comes first.'_ Wendy had always completely agreed with the rule. She'd always been a rule type of person, Wendy. Except now, that the rule was applying itself to a situation such as this... well, it obviously didn't _really_ mean things this important, could it? But she couldn't say that to the girls.

The Fab 5 had come into being in 5th grade, hence the apparent conceited-ness of the name.. The 5 girls in it had always hung out with each other, but it wasn't until 5th grade that it became more of an exclusive clique, with a name and certain unwritten yet well known rules. It had been created out of sheer boredom, but it had stuck. The girls weren't so insane about it that they went around calling themselves the Fab 5 all the time. They only used the name in times of crisis – otherwise, they looked like major bitches.

Which, some people would argue, they were.

"We so wouldn't be breaking the rule though! In fact, by not going, we would all be breaking the rule!" The girls still looked skeptical. "Look,that rule means that whatever is best for the 5 is what we have to do, right? And what is best for us, obviously, is for us to go to Shelton, right?" Wendy said, manipulating the words to suit her. She was almost as good as Eric Cartman in that respect.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well... yeah."

"I suppose... but Powder didn't get in. So it wouldn't be best for all of us." Heidi stated.

"Would we want to be responsible for making Powder feel like she has taken what's best away from the group?" Wendy countered. "Look, if we don't go, then we're putting Powder in front of the Fab 5. And the Fab 5 must come first. I'm sure Powder doesn't want to be responsible for us breaking the first rule! She wants us to go, trust me."

Bebe and Lola looked convinced. Heidi had her eyes narrowed at Wendy, and Wendy felt uncomfortable, like Heidi knew that whole speech had been a nice way to say, _'Fuck Powder, I'm not giving up my future for the bitch, and if I can help it neither are any of you!'_ Heidi was notorious for saying 'like' all the time and for sounding like a stupid bimbo, but she was probably second only to Wendy in intelligence.

"I guess... for the good of everyone," Bebe said.

"Yeah. If I was Powder, I wouldn't want to be responsible for that," Lola agreed.

"Whatever you guys decide to do," Heidi said unhappily. Oh, she had Wendy figured out all right. But she didn't feel like pursuing the issue – it would be 3 against 1 and she so did not want to have a massive friend fight right then, especially one she would most likely lose.

Powder came back in and the girls continued to console her, although now they also eased her into the fact that they were leaving her, as much as they might not want to. Wendy participated actively, feeling that she could now once again be upset that they were leaving Powder because they were, in fact, leaving her. She felt no guilt that she had just talked Powder's 3 closest friends (the 4th, being Wendy, of course, would not have stayed regardless) out of leaving her when they had been so willing to stay, to keep her with them, behind her back. Because, as Wendy saw it, they were her friends too, and it was a dog-eat-dog world. She'd fought for them, and she'd won.

It didn't bother her at all that out of the 5, she was the only one who would refuse to put themselves or their future on the line for another friend. Maybe because she didn't realize it.

She thought she was a devoted friend, but she obviously wasn't going to sacrifice herself for them. She was fine with feeling devastated, but she would leave it at that. And she was fine with lying her way out of a bad situation instead of telling the truth, too, (that she wouldn't leave Shelton if her own mother's life were on the line, because it was her only chance at a successful life) if it meant her friends wouldn't see her as a selfish, hypocritical, bitch.

Which, some people would argue, she was.

--

**If you read this far, review! Next chapter, our lucky 8 (Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman, Wendy, Bebe, Heidi, and Lola) will find out who else made it, and will prepare to leave. Stay tuned!**


	2. One Must Know, Not Like, Fellow Students

**Wow. The first chapter was way long. I guess I didn't realize that I typed out 9 pages on Word. Expect that to be the average, by the way. I like that particular length. By the way, thanks for the review, Lunagrrl. I actually really like this chapter... hopefully other people will too.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own South Park. Back off.**

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**One Must Know, Not Like, Fellow Students**

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Acceptance – or, in some cases, rejection – letters from Shelton Prep were mailed in early-June, to allow time for families to prepare to ship their kids off. There were people like Kyle who would have left the next day, but dorms didn't open until September, so they were left with a whole summer to trudge through. Then there were people like Stan and Cartman who were looking forward to going away, but were going to enjoy their summers and miss it when it was gone. Then, there were people like Kenny, who figured that school was school, and all school sucked. The fact that he would be living at school was just icing on the shit cake.

Kenny was currently in Hell City – the metropolitan area Satan had established after he decided that New York City was the coolest place on Earth and Hell definitely needed one – having given some random passerby the only porn mag that he had on him to wait in reception's horrid line for him.

Hell's reception line sucked major ass. It was the first of many tortures to be endured – a long ass line just to get in to the damn place. Kind of like at Six Flags, just 1,000 times worse. Kenny wasn't psychotic about waiting in lines the way Cartman was. He just had better things to do, like plot revenge on a certain red-haired soccer player. Just because he _could_ die didn't mean he liked to. What kind of person would _like_ dying?

Besides Gothic people, of course.

Kenny strolled down the congested sidewalks, not paying any attention to the horribly maimed people who walked by, going about their daily business. He stopped at a McDonald's (Hell only had fast food restaurants. It was part of the whole unhealthy, horrible lifestyle thing. Kenny didn't particularly mind.) and picked up a double cheeseburger, no onions, with some Dr. Pepper. He leaned against the wall, sipping the soda thoughtfully. Flames shot through the sky, the dull roaring providing a constant background noise.

When he was done, he dropped the trash on the sidewalk and made his way back to reception. The guy who was waiting in line for him was near the front of the cue and seemed relieved to see him. He took off as soon as Kenny reached the spot he had held. Eventually, Kenny reached the desk. A middle aged secretary named Gina smiled up at him.

"Oh, Kenny, dear," she said, in a voice very similar to Principal Victoria's, from South Park Elementary. "Nice to see you."

"Hey, Gina," Kenny answered, bored.

"So, what happened this time?" she asked, and a folder marked _McCormick, Kenneth, _appeared in a small flash of flames on her desk. She flipped it open and studied the first paper inside. "Hm... says here you got smashed by a tractor." Gina raised her eyes to Kenny's for confirmation.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, you should be more careful around tractors from now on," she admonished. She scribbled a few things in the folder, shut it, and it disappeared in another flash of fire. "Okay, you should be good to go. You be careful, now, I'm having a busy week and I don't need you down here every other day to slow the progress." She smiled warmly at him.

"Hey... that kid gets to leave?" a random, recently dead soul from the line yelled. A grumble rose in the crowd, and complaints began to be loudly vocalized.

Gina's sweet face contorted, and her voice no longer sounded like Principal Victoria's; it was more like Satan's when he was extremely pissed, only a little deeper. "All of you shut your damned mouths, or you'll be spending the next 1,000 years being whipped and tortured by the demons of hell!"

The crowd fell into a stunned, fearful silence. Gina turned to Kenny. "Bye now, Kenny!" she chirped happily.

"... Seeya."

Kenny didn't feel the flames that engulfed him. To spectators, he just disappeared in a flash, much like the folders on Gina's desk did. The strange feeling of being transported through realities forced his eyes shut – it was like having a fierce wind blowing him around, but he was submerged underwater at the same time.

He noticed, as he always did, the strange constriction of his lungs. He balled his fists, using all his might to take one breath, just one little gasp of air. Every nerve tingled with pain, his head swam, but he needed to take that one breath-

He gasped, his lungs filling with air, his eyes shooting open. He was staring at his bedroom ceiling. His body felt re-energized, and he jumped off of the bed that he had reappeared on.

He glanced at the old clock on his nightstand. It was 7:30 AM on what he was pretty sure – he checked the calendar just in case, and he was right – was the last day of school. The last time he would set foot in a South Park school. It was the end of an era, for sure.

He walked out the front door, unnoticed by his father who was fast asleep on the couch, bottle of vodka clutched in his fist.

----

When Stan Marsh walked up to the bus stop, he was not surprised to find that Kenny had his hood tightened and had his back slightly angled towards Kyle, snubbing any attempt at conversation. Kyle looked agitated and was countering Kenny's don't-talk-to-me posture with his own, arms crossed, and, when his eyes met Stan's, he rolled them, signaling that he thought Kenny was being immature. The three stood in silence for a while, Stan waiting patiently for what would inevitably occur...

"Kenny, I don't see why you can't just get over it." Kyle said, arms still crossed, still not looking at his hooded companion.

... there it was.

"Oh, right, Kyle. I forgot that being murdered by your supposed friend is something that can be easily gotten over." Kenny said bitterly.

Kyle rotated slightly to face him. "It's just that you die all the time, and-"

"Okay," Kenny whirled around in anger, "So the fact that someone can return from death is acceptable reason to kill them?"

"I didn't say that-"

"Then what were you going to say?"

Kyle hesitated a moment and his face softened. "I was going to say that I love you, I have always loved you, and if you don't forgive me I will have to live out the rest of my life in agony, never knowing what happy life I ruined by making what was obviously a very grave mistake."

Kenny's jaw dropped, all anger replaced by absolute shock. Kyle never looked away from his eyes and his face seemed completely serious. A few seconds passed in awkward silence; probably 2 or 3 gay babies. Then, a small smile started to tug at corner of the red-head's mouth, and Kenny looked at the ground, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"You're a stupid asshole," Kenny muttered.

Kyle's smile broadened. "Should've seen your face," he taunted. Stan allowed a chuckle at Kenny's expense, and the blond shot him a resentful glare.

"Aw, cheer up." Kyle patted him on the back. "If it really means that much to you, I guess I could allow one night of-"

"Fuck off, queer-ass," Kenny shoved him away.

Kyle and Stan erupted into new peals of laughter. Kenny even smiled a little, willing to appreciate the joke even if it had been on him. He'd victimized too many fellow students with the I'm-gay-for-you gag not to see the hilarity of one in a situation such as that.

"Hey, fags," Cartman greeted the 3 as he walked up to the stop. Stan and Kyle almost fell over in renewed laughs. Cartman hesitated, then touched his face to make sure nothing was wrong. It felt okay.

"Kenny, what the fuck are these assholes doing?" Cartman asked.

Kenny shook his head, "You missed it, and if I told you it would ruin the... effect," he said, gesturing to the two laughing boys.

Cartman frowned and seemed a little unsure, so he continued to eye the pair suspiciously while coming up with several revenge-scheme ideas, just in case. Physically, besides growing upwards quite a bit, Cartman had stayed the same. Still overweight, still sporting double chins and occasionally his hat, still universally known as 'fatass'. He had built on some muscle from fighting Kyle over the years and from a little bit of football, but other than that he was remarkably unchanged.

Eventually Stan and Kyle calmed down and continued a conversation from the day before about Stan's newest video game, _Gunned Down 3. _Stan was disappointed with the effects and its ultimate lacking of much gore, Kyle found the storyline to be "a boring circle of similar events", and Cartman said that the bad guys' evil plan was laughably childish. Kenny remarked that he would do every female in the game since they were all pretty hot, drawing nods and shrugs all around.

The bus pulled up 10 minutes late, causing Cartman to lay into the Mexican bus driver pretty heavily. The man stared back at him in bewilderment and a little bit of fear, going "Si, diez minutos," every time Cartman repeated that he was 10 minutes late. Kenny grabbed his friend's arm. "Dude, let it go," he told him. "It's the last day of school."

"No, that's bullshit!" Cartman exclaimed. "We pay this poor fucker with our own tax dollars, give him a chance to feed his 17 kids because his hourly wage here is a yearly wage over in taco-land, and in return all he has to do is drive a bus twice a day! And he can't get it right?!"

"Shut the fuck up, fatass, or you can fucking walk to school," Kyle said angrily from his seat. A murmur of agreement rose up from the other seated kids.

"No one's walking anywhere," Kenny said loudly, silencing the growing buzz. Cartman's cheeks turned an odd red color, and he stared at his friend's back in fury. Kenny stepped to the side, pushing Cartman down the aisle towards his spot. Cartman turned around, hissing quietly, "I don't need you to help me, welfare. You're making me look like a fucking pansy and if anyone says anything about it I'm gonna kick your poor ass just to show them who needs protecting here."

Kenny's stared back at him in shock and a little bit of hurt, and after a few seconds Cartman turned back around and went to his seat. Kenny looked at the ground, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the floor before slowly making his way to the empty seat that was farthest away from Cartman.

Stan and Kyle, who had watched and heard the scene unfold sat back in their seat, a similar look of anger on both their faces.

"Why does he take that shit from him?" Kyle muttered. "He'd never take it from anyone else... he'd probably kick both of our asses if we did that to him."

"Hell if I know..." Stan replied.

Kenny McCormick was known for letting his best friend, Cartman, walk all over him. When they joked around, Kenny would call him a fatass just as much as the next guy, but no one ever let Cartman talk to them the way Kenny did. No one really understood it, either. No one understood how one of the nicest (despite being a bit a of pervert, he was a nice kid), most popular guys in the whole town became best friends with the supreme asshole of the land. No one understood why, when Cartman went 7 kinds of pissed on him, he would just stand by and take it when he would probably punch anyone else in the jaw for saying the same thing. No one understood why Kenny would never say that he'd had enough from the prick.

Whenever Cartman went ape shit on Kenny, the general mood against him was an extreme feeling of anger and resentment – more so than usual. But Cartman never let it get it to him, and later on he'd come back to Kenny, ready to forget it ever happened. And Kenny, much to the shaking of many disapproving heads, went along with it. Most people felt that if Kenny would stand up to him, just one time, Cartman might learn that Kenny wasn't going to take his shit and cool off a little bit. But Kenny never did.

----

Two rows in front of Kyle and Kenny, five girls were also watching.

"I feel so bad for him..." Heidi started.

"I don't," Bebe pouted. Kenny had broken up with her 2 weeks before, and she wasn't quite over it. The other girls ignored her; post-break-up anger was tolerated, but usually not responded to.

"He seems like such a different person when this happens," Lola said, "It's hard to believe that this is the same... amazing... Kenny." Her eyes glazed over and a dreamy smile crossed her lips. Bebe scowled while Heidi, Powder, and Wendy rolled their eyes.

"He's such a charmer... and so cute when he takes his hood all the way off..." Bebe made a strange choking sound. Lola's eyes suddenly hardened, "Why does Eric have to ruin everything?"

"Why does Kenny let him?" Wendy countered. She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Lemme go talk to Stan," she said.

The other four watched her go, then turned back to each other. "I can't believe they're still going out," Powder said.

"I know," the others replied simultaneously.

"Even after the Red thing," Bebe said.

"_I know!" _the others replied again.

"Well, you know, technically they were broken up then because she made out with Craig, like, an _hour _before he made out with Red," Heidi stated.

The other girls pondered this for a moment. "Well, still, Red knew that Wendy was just a little upset and that no one ever touches Stan unless they've been broken up for a week," Bebe said.

"True," Lola said.

"Slut," Powder added.

All four girls turned to give Red an extremely ugly look, but she was talking to...

"Oh, my God, why is she talking to _Cartman?" _Powder cried.

"She probably realizes that he's the only guy that will touch her saggy ass," Lola giggled. The others joined in. Wendy returned, saying, "Well, Stan and Kyle -" Bebe sighed; she'd always liked Kyle but he was so goddamn oblivious! "- were talking about it when I showed up and they said that they have no idea why Kenny's so spineless when it comes to Cartman."

"Wendy!" Heidi protested.

"What? It's true. He should stick up for himself. In fact, I'm going to go talk to him." She got up to leave again, but Heidi grabbed her arm. "What, Heidi?" she asked, mildly annoyed.

"Wendy, you... you're not exactly the best when it comes to speaking to someone who, you know... well, you're kind of really upfront about it and I don't think Kenny wants his feelings... pried from him," Heidi struggled to find the right words.

"Fine, then you go talk to him," Wendy said simply, sitting back down. Heidi's stomach dropped. "That's not really what I meant... Lola could do it!" she suggested.

"I'd love that!" Lola said, but Wendy shook her head.

"No way, Lola, you'd be too caught up in your undying love to get anything effective out of him." Lola crossed her arms and looked away. "Heidi, _you_ go. And give our friend a little acknowledgment, will you? Let her know we see her chatting up fatty."

Heidi's eyes widened a little. Now she had to talk to Kenny _and_ mess with Red? "Fine," Heidi relented. She stood up, and on the way back 'accidentally' stumbled, knocking Red forward and basically onto Cartman's lap. The four girls behind her howled with laughter. She saw the death glare she got in return, but chose to ignore it. When she finally reached the last seat, she smiled shyly. Holy shit, being near Kenny made her nervous.

The blond boy looked up and returned her smile weakly.

"Mind if I...?" Heidi trailed off.

"Go ahead." He answered. She sat in the seat across from him.

"So you're the chosen one today?" he asked her.

"What?"

"You're the one that your little group picked to come back and see why I take Cartman's shit?" he clarified.

Startled, she stuttered, "Well... I-I guess.. yeah." Her cheeks were burning – this was not going as it was supposed to. She was supposed to artfully make him feel comfortable enough to share his feelings, then give him some kind of stellar advice on how to make his 'best friend' stop treating him like dog crap.

He smiled. "What do you have against Red, anyway?"

Her face reddened even more, and she hadn't thought that was possible. "Well... it's kind of Wendy's thing..." She looked up to find his blue eyes looking straight into her own.

"So you embarrass someone for no reason, other than that one of your friends wants you to?" he asked.

"N-no..."

"That's what it looks like to me. Looks like you girls are just a bunch of little kids who never really evolved from grade school. All your plotting and scheming and being exclusive and targeting people who didn't do anything wrong except make your pack leader jealous-"

"Wendy is not-"

"So tell me, why is it that you're all so interested in me?" Kenny asked.

"That's none of your business," she said coldly.

"And I don't believe my problems are any of _your _business, Heidi Turner." He responded just as icily, if not more. His expression was one of contempt and... pity, almost.

Heidi stood up began to stomp to the front of the bus. She looked at the four expectant faces up at their seats and saw, for the first time, how pathetic they really were.

----

She hated the name Bertha. Hated it with every fiber of her being. So when she plopped down next to Cartman, intent on seeing just why he was so mean to his friend and was greeted with a nod, sly smile and, "Bertha," she knew it was going to be a long bus ride.

"Eric Theodore," Red replied.

"What do you want, 'ho? Skip the formalities and small talk and get to the point," he said impatiently.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that. You're a smart boy, Cartman," she said in a faux-sweet voice. Cartman scowled.

"You know you're just giving everyone more of an excuse to hate you when you treat Kenny like that. Almost everyone loves him," she said softly.

"Like I care about what anyone else thinks," he scoffed.

"That's not what you said to Kenny." Cartman's expression of arrogance faltered. "I know you care about what people think and I also know that you hate that about yourself." Cartman was looking down, not at her. "But using your friend as an example to say 'fuck you' to the world... who's that really hurting, Cartman?"

"I'm not gonna get all emotional and say 'myself', then start sobbing and shit if that's what you expect," he said grumpily. "So why don't you get outta here, Dr. Phil."

Red shook her head. "I don't expect you to say yourself. I expect you to say Kenny." His head jerked up and he gave her a careful, measured look.

All of a sudden, a sharp blow to Red's back sent her lurching forward onto Cartman. She whirled around in a flash of red hair and saw Heidi Turner casually making her way to the back of the bus.

"Fucking bitch," she muttered, fighting back angry tears. Cartman lifted his eyebrows.

"You just gonna take that, 'ho?" he asked. Red refused to look at him. His calculating eyes swept over her. "And to think I was just about to consider respecting you." He said regretfully. Her gray-green eyes me his. "I don't respect weak people, no matter how much they burrow into my mind."

"What was I supposed to do, get up and punch her?" she cried hotly.

"You're supposed to do something, bitch," he said. "You may think you know a lot about me, but I know a lot about _everybody. _And I happen to know that they've been after you since you made out with Stan at Clyde's party like a slut."

"Stan said he was done with Wendy-" she began, defending herself.

"Do you think I give a shit?" Cartman asked. Red was taken aback. He glanced over the top of the seats – which was easy with his height – and saw that Heidi was looking extremely uncomfortable. It wouldn't be long before she scuttled back to her group of hippie friends. He found himself mentally congratulating Kenny, but a feeling of guilt came along with it. Guilt? That was new. Cartman shook his head to get rid of it.

"Move," he commanded.

"What?"

"MOVE, BITCH!"

She obediently got out of the seat and switched places with him; now she was on the inside and Cartman on the outside. As Cartman sat back down, he saw that he had once again caught the attention of his favorite fags, Stan and Kyle._ 'Keep watching,'_ he mouthed. The Jew looked suspicious, but Stan was rapt with curiosity.

Cartman angled himself towards Heidi, who was starting to get up to flee Kenny. "As far as revenge goes, this is a classic oldie and I tend to stay away from it. But for both a first timer," he glanced back at Red, "and for someone who has never known that shame," he gestured to a rapidly approaching Heidi, "it's simply..."

Heidi came even with their seat, not even glancing at Red and Cartman. She didn't notice that they had switched places. She also didn't notice the thick leg that was stuck out just as she got there.

"...effective," Cartman finished.

As she landed flat on her face, the entire bus became hysterical. Most people laughed heartily, although four girls in particular squealed in horror. Red gazed at Cartman reverently; no one had ever stuck up for her. Even Stan and Kyle allowed themselves to enjoy it – they'd seen what Heidi had done to Red and thought she deserved a little something back.

Cartman glanced to the back of the bus. Kenny, who hadn't been watching, had looked forward when he heard the noise. He looked at Heidi, struggling up from the floor, to the leg still out in the aisle where its job had been accomplished, to the person that leg was attached to.

Kenny was shocked to see Cartman smiling at him. So he did the only thing he could think of, which was to smile back.

----

"... Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman, report to the main office immediately."

The four boys glanced at each other and shrugged. It was switching time between 4th and 5th period. No one knew what the summons was about, so they made their way to the office fairly clueless. Once there, they all froze. Already inside were Wendy, Bebe, Heidi, Lola, and Red. Powder was, mysteriously, missing. Red was looking extremely uncomfortable as the girls across the room whispered and shot her a look every now and then, but with the arrival of the boys she relaxed.

"Stan!" Wendy cried, a little too exaggeratedly, throwing her arms around her boyfriend. She pulled back, giving Red a hard look. "I was starting to think that maybe some little _slut _was with you, but then she showed up here."

Red's head snapped up and she jumped out of her chair. "Shut your fucking mouth, Wendy!"

"What the hell did you-"

"Girls!" Principal Wenzlo shouted. Wendy and Red stopped in their tracks. Stan looked relieved, Cartman and Kenny mildly disappointed.

"That's enough! Now everyone just... calm down." Nobody moved. "That's better. Now we've just called you down here to-"

"Okay, okay, I had 'Wenzlo the Weasel Eats' painted across the office walls in poop by a couple of Mexicans that I know in the business," Cartman said.

Awkward silence, this one about 7 gay babies long, followed. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, Kyle put his head in his hands, Kenny laughed, and all five girls looked disgusted.

"Cartman, that's so gross," Red said finally.

"Mr. Cartman, that's not what I called you all down to talk about, although I assure you that you'll hear more about the issue after. Please, do not leave once this meeting is over," Wenzlo said,

"... lame."

"Anyway, I'd just like to congratulate you! Since you 10-"

"10?" Stan asked. "There's only 9 here."

"Oh, really? Well, where's Mr. Stotch?"

"Butters?!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Yes, him. Well, someone just deliver the message. Anyway, since you are this year's Shelton Prep kids, I thought I'd personally say how proud I am that you've upheld South Park's wonderful reputation for having amazingly bright students! Now, Mr. Cartman, please come back to my private office."

She left the remaining eight alone. They were silent. Red stared at Bebe, Lola, Heidi, and Wendy. "Powder too stupid to get in?" she asked.

"Yes," Lola said. Bebe, Heidi, and Wendy gasped, and Lola realized what she'd said. But it was too late. Red chuckled to herself, grabbed her books, and left.

Heidi was squirming under Kenny's gaze. God dammit, why wouldn't he stop staring? She met his eyes, but looked away quickly. "I gotta go," she muttered and left the office.

"Us too!" Bebe said, grabbing Lola's arm and pulling her after Heidi.

"Stan, you and your friends cannot talk to Red," Wendy commanded. Kyle and Kenny's eyes sparked in anger.

"Why? Red's cool. I don't know why you hate her so much," Stan said.

"I guess I didn't realize that I fell under the 'Supreme Couple's' jurisdiction," Kyle said. Kenny nodded in agreement. Wendy shot them an angry look. "Fine, then, _you _can't talk to her, Stan. Or it's over."

Stan laughed, "Yeah, for a week before you want to get back together." Wendy seethed, and Stan realized that he probably shouldn't have been so flippant about it.

"Well if that's how you feel, then I guess we're over right now!" and she stomped out.

Stan looked crestfallen. "I didn't think she'd actually break up with me for that," he said weakly. Kyle patted him consolingly on the back. "C'mon, we'll sneak into the cafeteria and steal some ice cream."

This brightened Stan's mood significantly. The trio left the office, leaving a luckless Cartman behind to face the consequences of his shit-smearing escapade alone.


	3. One Should Not Skip Orientation

**Thanks for the reviews… anyway sorry for the long wait. School started and I am just LOADED down with Geometry, Chemistry, English, History, and Comm Life (Sex Ed). Joy unbounded. In happier (much happier) news, I have my laptop! Glory So now I can work on this in the middle of a particularly boring English class if I want. On with the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own South Park.**

--

**One Should Not Skip Orientation**

--

"Holy shit, dude!"

"Open the windows, mom!"

"Fucking hell, Cartman!"

Shirts over their noses, the boys could not get the automated windows open fast enough. Kenny stuck his head out the window to escape and was promptly decapitated by a surprisingly close-to-the-road street sign, his body toppling to the pavement and left on the side of the rural Colorado street.

"Aw, now look what you did, fatass!" Kyle screamed, gesturing to the spots of blood on the car interior. Sheila glanced in the rearview mirror, eyebrows forming a "V" above her hazel eyes. "Eric, I'm sure that wasn't necessary. Now the men at the carwash are going to have a very difficult job."

"What, I had to fucking fart," he responded.

"A warning would have been appreciated," Stan mumbled through his t-shirt.

"Come on Stan, the windows are open, it doesn't even stink anymore," Cartman commented.

"You have my assurances, Cartman, the car would have to be professionally fumigated to get the smell out," Kyle argued. Cartman smiled broadly as if it were some kind of personal achievement. "Whatever, dude," he said, still grinning.

A few moments of silence passed. Sheila, all alone in the front of the car, decided to strike up some conversation. "Well, boys you must be very excited for this year."

"Yeah," they all deadpanned.

"And what a great coincidence, you all getting to room together," she continued.

"Yeah," Stan and Kyle repeated. "Fucking swell," Cartman muttered.

"It's a shame that – oh, what's your little friend's name, Stanley? The black haired girl?" Sheila asked him, glancing at blue-eyed boy in rearview mirror.

"Wendy, mom," Kyle answered for him. Stan and Wendy had gotten back together a week after they'd broken up in June, then broke up again in the beginning of July. Since Wendy decided to have another one of her I'm-so-over-Stan stints with Clyde, they had only gotten back together again 1 week ago. This, about a 2 month gap, was one of their longer ones. "Her name is Wendy."

"Wendy, right. As I was saying, it's such a shame her friend Dust-"

"Powder."

"- right, Powder, - isn't attending. I never saw those girls apart." No one decided to reply to this. Eventually, Sheila started up again. "Kyle, why don't you have a nice little friend like Wendy?"

Cartman exploded into laughter and Kyle's face turned pink. "Mom!"

"What? I was just asking a question, bubbe."

Kyle shook his head slowly, pulling his ushanka down over his eyes. Parents.

About half an hour later, the car pulled into the Shelton Prep drop-off parking lot. It was, as expected, full to bursting with parents and their vehicles, dropping off their kids and their kids' luggage. It took 5 minutes to find an open space to pull into and start unloading. As the boys worked, Kyle grabbed Kenny's duffel bag and threw it at Cartman, hitting him in the head with a cushioned thud.

"The hell?"

"You indirectly killed him, you have to carry his stuff," Kyle explained. When all their belongings were removed from the car, Sheila was quick in departing.

"All these people need places to unload, I can't be hogging this space," she explained. She smiled at the three teens in front of her. "Oh, you boys are just growing up so fast! I remember sending you off to your first day of pre-school… you were just adorable!" Tears welled up in the middle-aged eyes. "Now Ike is getting older and soon… soon my little boys will be grown men!"

Kyle smiled at his mom. She was overbearing, obnoxious, and could be pretty damn annoying, yes, but she meant well, she really did.

"Well, I really must get going," she decided, fumbling with her car keys.

"Thanks for the ride Mrs. Broflovski," Stan said as she got in and pulled away, leaving them all alone in a place where they would be living for the next year. All alone in a place that was definitely _not _South Park.

Masters Dorm was the freshman boys' dormitory. Every single boarding freshman lived there, putting up with the horrible ventilation and smell as a result of it.

"Dude, it smells like Cartman's ass in here, too!" Stan cried.

"No, my farts are way worse," Cartman said, kind of defensively.

The time it took for their clean and empty room to become a mess of scattered clothes, comics, books, and video games was startling. In five minutes it looked as though the boys had been there for five years.

Cartman picked up a yellow paper that had been placed on the desk on his side of the room. Chocolate eyes swept over it, brows furrowed. "Says here we have some orientation bull-crap to do."

"Yeah I read about that," Kyle commented. "Supposed to be pretty cool."

"Says who?"

"The information sheet."

Cartman snorted at this and patted Kyle consolingly on the back. "Okay, my naïve Jew, how many times must people bullshit you before you realize that a source is never going to say how much something that it sponsors actually sucks?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Dude, whatever. I heard there was a macaroni pit."

"Macaroni pit? Well, why the hell didn't you say something earlier? Let's get the fuck out of here and go to super-awesome orientation!"

The sad part was that he was totally serious, which he proved by running out the door faster than Stan or Kyle had ever seen him go. They shrugged and followed along at a slightly more leisurely pace.

----

She looked at herself in the car mirror. Pouted her glossed lips to see that they were just perfect. Adjusted the Gucci sunglasses perched on her ski slope nose. Straightened her top to reveal just enough skin, and pulled up her skirt to achieve the same goal. She flipped her super-straight (thanks to a flat iron) hair, admiring the natural honey-colored highlights.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a girl with dirty blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun holding a clipboard wandering over to her. A perfect target. She spun around, adopting a stance that very clearly stated, "You have already annoyed me and you haven't even spoken yet." She held out one of her hands in front of her, palm facing the other way, pretending to inspect her manicure.

The orientation guide froze, then decided to keep coming, just for the hell of it. "Are you a new student?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lola answered curtly, looking up and locking eyes with the guide through her shades. The girl looked like she was going to speak, but she stopped herself and handed Lola a sheet of yellow paper before scampering away.

Looking good enough to intimidate loser upper-classmen? Check.

Lola folded the paper daintily without even looking at it and tucked it into her purse. She could just ask Wendy what it said later.

Lola grabbed the handle on one of her suitcases and began to roll it towards the freshmen girls' dorm. Her father, who had been unloading the rest of her things, jogged after her. She reached the room that was designated for her and flung open the door.

"Oh my God, who are you?" she asked, dropping the bag she had rolled with her. Inside the room were three girls. In colored-denim overalls and pigtails. They were, and it should go without saying, not Heidi, Wendy, and Bebe.

She turned and walked out without an explanation to the farm-hands inside. "Dad, stay here." One by one, she pounded on the doors of other dorm rooms with a manicured fist, and each time the person who answered was not one of her best friends. Finally, Bebe burst from a room down the hall, checking on what the constant thumping was coming from. When her eyes met Lola's fury filled ones, her cheeks colored.

"Lola, there was a change in plans."

"Oh, really? Because I can't say I noticed."

Bebe gestured for her to come into the room, and she did. Inside were Heidi and Wendy, both looking particularly miffed themselves. "They changed the assignments," Bebe said.

"Assignments?" Lola asked.

"Room assignments. They switched the three people who were in here to where we were going." Bebe explained.

"The hillbilly triplets made sure we understood that 'that there Lola gal' was the only one who would be staying with them because they'd received notices in the mail," Heidi said bitterly.

"And?"

"They're right," Wendy interjected. "We checked with the Dean. It's official." Lola clenched her hands into fists and pounded on the fourth unclaimed bed. "Why? Why would they do that? What was the problem?"

"Apparently the barnyard freaks had sent in a letter saying how they needed a room whose window faced the sunrise," Bebe said.

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"Why?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"So our room fit the bill?"

"Not our room," Wendy corrected, "_You're_ room." Lola glared at her, breathing heavily through her nostrils. "So you're saying that you all get to move out, and I'm stuck with a bunch of overall-wearing freaks from the cow farm?"

"Pretty much," Wendy said, fairly unsympathetic to Lola's problem.

"What am I going to do? I can't live with them! I don't even know who they are!" Lola lamented.

"Maybe you should go start knowing them then," Wendy said. Lola stiffened.

"Yeah, maybe I should," she replied frigidly. She opened the door and stalked out without another word.

Wendy's eyes rolled as she leaned back and began to file her nails. "Stupid bitch," she glanced up at the blonde and brunette in front of her. "Very convincing show, girls."

"You're sure that was the right thing to do?" Bebe asked, fidgeting with the clasp on her purse. _Snap-click. Snap-click. _She did and un-did the clasp over and over.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Bebe, how many times have _you _said that you could not stand how annoying she was? That 'now that she doesn't consume Powder's time we're all seeing the real, hideously clingy Lola'. This was a group decision, and you agreed to it just as much as we did. Right, Heidi?"

"Uh-huh," Heidi responded, like she was supposed to. Bebe shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah but… sending in a fake letter saying that she needs to be switched because of sensitivity issues? If we'd been caught..."

"But we weren't, were we, so stop worrying about it. Lola won't go to the Dean, so she'll never know about the confidential letter she mailed," Wendy smiled maliciously. Heidi frowned down at the ground, thinking.

Thing was, since the last day of school she'd been doing a lot of thinking, mostly about her relationships with her friends. She'd tried to shake off what Kenny had said to her that day, tried to remove from her mind the pity and disappointment she'd read in those brilliant, beautiful, sapphire eyes. They wouldn't go, though. The feeling that she'd somehow failed Kenny made her feel sick to her stomach.

She knew that he hated her. She wasn't quite sure why, because that end of the year incident couldn't have been it, could it? But Heidi was sure of the fact the Kenneth McCormick hated not only her, but Bebe, Powder, Lola, and Wendy, too. Now that she looked for it, he saw the disgust that flickered in his expression every time Wendy waltzed up to Stan. She noticed the way he quickly left the scene when Bebe or Lola sidled up to his side, eager to flirt. She didn't tell the other girls what she knew, though. It would be pointless – they wouldn't believe her.

Plenty of people hated them. All five girls knew that and had always known it. To maintain their status as queens of the social scene, they'd have to step on, smash, or just break off a few toes. Or dozens of toes. Whatever. But being hated by Kenny was, for Heidi, different. It made her squirm.

Wendy, always watching, noticed the glaze over Heidi's eyes that always meant deep thought and huffed her frustration. Lately, Heidi had been a bore. She didn't come up with plots to destroy people, she didn't laugh when they made fun of others, she wasn't all too sympathetic when Wendy and Stan had broken up ("Oh," had been her full reaction). Wendy was beginning to wonder if they'd cut off the wrong member from the group.

To be honest, Wendy wasn't quite sure why they'd decided to get rid of Lola. Boredom was the reason that sprang most readily to mind. That and the fact that within the 5, Lola and Powder had always been a kind of force. Without one, there wasn't much use for the other. They needed to make a little bit of room for prospective best friends, and Lola was the first on the cut list because she just wasn't fun or cool enough on her own.

The Heidi issue bothered her, yes, but more in a this-is-getting-old way than an I'm-concerned-for-my-friend way. Wendy would make sure that Heidi understood that it was either join in with the games or get axed. Establishing themselves as the leading girls at Shelton, which they would invariably do, would require cutting away the weak parts to make way for stronger, better portions.

As far as Wendy was concerned, Heidi had to make up her mind about which side of the popular spectrum she wanted to be on. Because, whichever side it was, good or bad, Wendy would be sure to make it happen.

Heidi had better be sure about it, too. Wendy was always more than willing to ruin someone, even as she smiled at them from across the room they were going to share for the next 9 months.

----

"Lying Jewish piece of shit," Cartman bellowed, turning on Kyle in a fit of anger. "You said there would be a macaroni pit."

"They heard you were coming, fatass, so they wheeled it away before you could eat it all!"

"Actually, the macaroni pit was deemed a waste of food by Shelton's student government last year," an Asian kid with glasses and a clipboard recited. He shook each of the boys' hands. "I'm Mark. We still buy the macaroni, but now we send it over to people in third-world countries who could really use an extra meal. We do have relay races going on, though, and I assure you, they are superbly fun!"

"Poor people ruin everything," Cartman complained.

"Yes… um… well, could I get your names?" Mark asked.

"Broflovski, Cartman, Marsh." Kyle recited. Mark went through a list and checked off three names, his pen hovering over a fourth.

"It says here that you're rooming with one Kenny McCormick… have you seen him around or have you not met him yet?" Mark looked at the three of them, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, he was decapitated on the way here. He probably won't make this orientation thing… should I tell him he missed it?" Stan replied in a casual manner.

Mark wasn't quite as casual. "Did you say… oh my… _decapitated?" _

"Yeah, because fatass ripped one in the car and he was trying to get some fresh air," Stan filled in.

Mark's hands shook. The clipboard clattered to the ground. "Were the authorities… notified?" he asked, voice cracking.

"Nah, we just left him there."

"Left him where?!"

"Where the hell do you think? On the side of the road, dumbass," Cartman crossed his arms over his chest. Mark gasped, his hands flying to his mouth and his face turning an unnatural shade of green. He stumbled off to find a trash can, or a secluded bush, to puke, horrified, in relative privacy.

"What the hell is his problem?" Stan wondered.

"People here are psychos. Getting rid of the macaroni pit because there are poor people starving in third-world countries? Those lazy buckets of piss should get jobs so they can stop mooching off our taxpayers!" Kyle shook his head but didn't answer. He'd learned over the years that if he argued back, Cartman would likely go off and start an organization against foundations that advocated for third-world countries, and it would probably become the country's new biggest thing, and Kyle and Stan would have to go deal with some random douche bags in some random places to stop it, and somewhere along the line Kenny would die as a result of food poisoning or something. And Kyle really didn't need that kind of aggravation at the beginning of freshman year.

Stan was watching Kyle try to hold in his explosion, and it was pretty damn funny. The way his eye twitched as he stared down an unknowing Cartman, the quiver in his jaw as he fought to keep it shut. But suddenly, he was staring into two very brown eyes instead of looking at his best friend.

"Lola?"

"Hey, Stan," her voce floated out smoothly, reminding Stan of silk. And suddenly, without any warning, Stan found himself in what was undoubtedly one of the most passionate kisses in his entire life. He drew her in, arms slowly wrapping around her shoulders, and just as he felt something… more… was coming, she slowly backed away.

The confusion is his eyes was not about why she'd started, but why she'd stopped. She smiled at him, her hand lingering on his left shoulder before she turned and walked away. His eyes followed the swing of her hips like they were a hypnotist's swinging medallion.

Kyle and Cartman were gaping at him. "God dammit, Stan, how do you do that?!" Kyle finally cried.

"Between you and welfare there's never anyone left for the rest of the male population…" Cartman grumbled. Stan placed his hands behind his head, leaning back against the brick building behind him and smiling contentedly.

Cartman glanced away and, by chance, caught a familiar figure hurrying around the campus. Red was walking quickly yet stiffly, and her head was swiveling from side to side, looking for something.

She met Cartman's eyes and her shoulders slumped. She began to jog over to him.

Apparently she'd been looking for _someone, _not something.

"Cartman, I need you," she said frantically, pulling on his sleeve. Kyle let out an anguished scream, throwing his hands in the air and stomping back to the dorm room.

"What, bitch?" Cartman asked, feigning annoyance.

"Just c'mere," she said, continuously tugging on his arm. He relented, allowing her to lead him to a private strip of grass between the dining hall and the science center. She spun around and gazed up into his brown eyes. "I need your help."

Cartman raised one eyebrow in response.

"You saw on the last day of school how I… tend to react to, you know," she struggled to find the words, "to _them." _She settled on. "The thing is, I'm going to really, really need to learn how to hold my own this year. And since you're the male equivalent of Wendy when it comes to plotting, I figured you would be the right person to turn to." Her face turned pink, "Plus on the bus… you kind of helped me so…"

Cartman heaved a dramatic sigh. "This is why I never help people. Because they always keep coming back for more. I attempted to dignify your ass once, and you're lucky I did that. My services are not for hire."

Red crossed her arms, "Cartman-"

"Listen, ho, that whole episode didn't make us friends. Or acquaintances. Or anything. You're still just the Red Haired Girl who's always been in a few of my classes."

Now she looked genuinely hurt. Because that was exactly what she had thought. She'd thought that since this kid had for some reason helped her out, that he was maybe willing to be more than just familiar strangers. For most people, that probably would have been what it meant. But she'd forgotten that it was Eric Cartman.

She spun on her heel and stalked off. Cartman frowned after her, then went back to where he'd left Stan. The boy was nowhere to be found; however, he did spot a whole group of students congregating over in the center of the quad. Remembering that the whole gay orientation thing was probably going on, Cartman decided to head in that direction.

The crowd was thick with freshman in yellow t-shirts (Cartman has apparently missed the distribution) with a few upper-classman in dark blue scattered about. Up ahead, an older guy was standing in front of a tree with a megaphone and was saying something about Shelton's diversity.

The Asian kid named Mark from before was coming around with his clipboard, taking names. When his gaze fell upon Cartman, his complexion paled considerably. Cartman ripped the clipboard out of his hands, scribbled his name on the list, and tossed it back at him. Mark scrambled to get away as quickly as possible.

Red was there, but she ignored his presence completely. He stared at the back of her head, narrowing his eyes, wondering what it was about this girl that wouldn't allow him to just throw her from his mind – something he did to other people who ease. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around and came face-to-face with a freshman boy (he was wearing a yellow t-shirt) who was small in size with dark brown hair. He pointed at Red's back.

"You know her?" he asked.

Cartman shook his head 'no'.

"Well, I've heard that she's experienced and willing, if you know what I mean," he elbowed Cartman in the hip, winking suggestively and cackling.

"Okay, weirdo," Cartman responded. But a girl who had been standing next to them and had been eavesdropping joined in.

"Oh, I know, I've heard she was a total slut," she said.

"Well, I've heard that she'll shove anything up her vagina if it'll get her $.50," this from yet another female.

Cartman was speechless for a moment. "And who told all of you this?" he asked.

"Some blonde chick," the guy said. "Bee-Bee, I think it was."

The other two girls shook their head. "No, a girl with black-hair told us," one of them said. "Her name was Mindy, or Mandy, or something like that."

Cartman turned back to an unsuspecting Red. Something inside him clicked. There was a part of Cartman that always enjoyed a challenge, a conflict. And he saw that by helping Red, he would be getting just that.

He walked right up to her and spun her around by her shoulders.

"What the hell, Cartman?" she asked in and combination of shock and anger.

"Why did you want me to help you, anyway?" he asked, ignoring her question. This seemed to surprise her more, and she blinked a few times.

"Uh… I'm rooming with Wendy, Heidi, and Bebe," she said, deflating.

A sly smile etched itself across his face. He stuck out his chubby hand. She eyed it suspiciously.

"What do I do with that?"

"Wear it as a hat," he drawled out sarcastically. Red looked even more confused. "You shake it, stupid!"

"Why?"

"Because we're making a deal here!"

Her face lit up, and she enthusiastically stuck her small, pale hand into Cartman's bigger, rough one. The three people he'd left behind, Cartman noticed, had their eyes practically popping out of their heads, and they were whispering actively among themselves.

Cartman half-wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

----

"I can't believe this, dude."

"Why not, it's your fault."

"_My fault?!" _Kyle look scandalized.

Stan shrugged. "Yeah. I didn't go because I didn't care. You skipped 'cause you were jealous."

"Of what?"

Stan looked extremely suave, slowly spreading his hands, palms down, outward. "Jealous of me and Cartman's skill with the lay-deez."

Kyle picked up a paperweight from the desk in front of him and only put it down when he realized that, unlike Kenny, Stan probably wouldn't be able to come back from being skewered through the head with a heavy metal falcon.

A man entered the room behind them, straightening his tie and clearing his throat. Both boys sat a bit more erectly, waiting as the man, Dr. Jay Lowells, took his place at the desk.

"Well, boys, I must say this is a bit of a disappointment. The first mandatory obligation of the school year and neither of you were in attendance. Wait-" he looked from Stan, to Kyle, than back to Stan, "- there are supposed to be three of you. You are?"

"Stan Marsh."

"And you?"

"Kyle Broflovski. Kenny McCormick is… not available right now."

The taken aback expression could've been from the correct prediction on Kyle's part or his explanation for Kenny's absence. "Where is he that makes him so unavailable?" he asked.

"He's… having an allergic reaction to… air," Stan said, looking apologetically at his friend. Kyle groaned inwardly and shook his head.

Dr. Lowells had never heard of an allergic reaction to air. But if a student at his school was having one, then he was not going to be made a fool of by denying such a thing existed. So instead he said, "Ah, yes. My sister-in-law has that allergy. Tell him to get well."

Stan's face changed to one of triumph and he flashed it in Kyle's direction. The Jewish teen had at this point adopted his friend's tendency of pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Moving on… I could give you boys an MO, or missed obligation, for missing the orientation. But because the school year has not even started yet, I feel it would be quite a sour note to begin your Shelton lives on. So I've decided to let you off with a warning. Don't get caught missing anything for a while, got it?"

"Yes, sir." Like there was any other response to that.

"Allergy to _air?_" Kyle almost screamed once they were safely outside.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"That doesn't change the fact that it's completely retarded!"

Stan smiled sheepishly.

Both boys stopped when Mark went running by, screaming bloody murder, attempting to rip clumps of his hair out of his scalp. Behind him, Kenny was picking up the thrown clipboard, rubbing the spot on his arm where it had hit him. The blond looked quizzically at his two friends.

"Dude, Kenny-" Stan started. But Dr. Lowells had appeared behind them, and said first. "Ah, you're Kenny then?"

Kenny nodded slowly.

"How is the air allergy going?"

The expression on Kenny's face then, especially since he was still holding Mark's clipboard, was the definition of _priceless._

----

**Hehe. I love Kenny. And Kyle. And Stan. And Cartman. Sometimes. Reviews? **


	4. One Should Learn To Live With It

**Total whoa-ness. I may not have many fans, but the ones I do have rock (cookies to **_**Lunagrrl **_**and **_**KennyIsDeadButSoAmI. **_**And **_**SouthParkism **_**for reviewing Chapter 2 earlier.**__**By the way, Kenny doesn't need me, he's a sexy piece of awesomeness all by himself. **

**I remembered that I put Butter's in this at the end of Chapter 2. He's obviously not a major character for this one, but he is a little ball of joy and hug-ability, and I love him, so here he is. Moving on to why you're here… which is Chapter 4.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own South Park. **

--

**One Should Learn To Live With It**

--

The first night for most people was a little awkward. With the exception of a few people, most of the boarding freshmen had never met their roommates before and suddenly found themselves sharing living space with total strangers. No matter how awkward the situation, though, it was generally accompanied with politeness.

Red was not afforded this luxury.

She had opened the door slowly and crept in silently, trying not to disturb the conversation that had been going on for exactly 22 minutes and 34 seconds (she had been keeping track outside the door, hoping that they'd get up to leave for a while at some point; they hadn't). She shouldn't have bothered. The second her fingertips touched the brushed steel of the door handle the talk halted and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

Six eyes fell on her as she slowly shut the door behind her. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

_Confidence. If you don't have it, then learn how to pretend that you do. Confidence is key. _She let what Cartman had told her fill her ears once again and walked over to her bed, flopping down onto the noisy springs. The eyes followed her.

She grabbed a book off the nightstand next to her and stretched out, opening the mystery novel at page 1 and beginning to read. Minutes passed, all in silence, and the six eyes never looked anywhere else besides right at her.

Bebe suddenly jerked her head to Wendy, blond curls bouncing angrily. "We traded Lola for _her?"_ she squeaked, fury making her voce shake.

Red's curiosity sufficiently yanked from her book, she began listening intently. Groaning bedsprings from Wendy's general area. Then, "No, we did not trade Lola for anything," fairly confidently and with a hint of warning.

But either Bebe didn't get the hint or she didn't care. "Yes, we totally did! Ugh, this is terrible! I mean, I thought it was a good idea and everything then…"

"We already discussed this," Wendy cut off the conversation.

"Should we be talking in front of her?" Heidi asked, eyeing Red suspiciously. Red slowly lowered her book and stared at Heidi, one eyebrow raised in an I'm-right-here-stupid way.

Wendy waved her hand at this. "She won't say anything to anyone."

"Says who?" Red exploded. Wendy shrugged. Red's gray-green eyes narrowed to slits. "You think you're so in control, don't you? That you have everyone and everything on such a short leash," Red laughed bitterly. "You can't even keep your guy from fooling around."

This was unexpected. "Stan and I have talked out our problems-"

Again, Red laughed in an ugly way. "I'm not talking about in the past. I'm talking about something…" she watched Wendy's face closely and did not see what she was looking for, prompting a big smile. "… something you don't even know about yet."

"What?" Wendy cried, beginning to lose her composure.

"You're smart Wendy. You put it together. Lola gets the axe from the Wendy appreciation club, and Stan suddenly has a new love interest. 10 points if you can figure out who made the first move."

Jaw tightening, Wendy abruptly stood and exited the room, Heidi and Bebe running after her. Red smiled and picked up her book. _Peace at last._

Down the hall, trouble was brewing. Red knew, but she hardly cared. They all deserved whatever was coming to them. And as the Fab 5 self-destructed, Red would be there to throw away all the little pieces that remained.

"Stay here," Wendy commanded. Heidi and Bebe stopped, standing sentry outside Lola's door as Wendy entered the room without knocking. The triplets were all sitting on the ground chattering about how excited they were for classes to start. Lola was on her bed, looking about ready to kill something, and when Wendy entered her expression changed to one of relief. Until, that was, she saw the expression on _Wendy's _face.

"So," Wendy said, crossing her arms and glaring at the brunette girl who was readjusting herself on her twin-sized bed. Confusion flickered in Lola's face, then understanding, finally settling on cool indifference.

"What?" she asked, stonily.

"I'm not going to play games with you, Lola!" Wendy shrieked.

But the brunette seemed unaffected. "I'm sure that I have no idea what you're talking about."

Wendy looked like she was going to flip. Fire burned in her eyes, and Lola remembered with a jolt the unfortunate Miss Ellen incident.

"You made a big mistake," Wendy seethed, jabbing her finger at her former friend. The two locked eyes, and Wendy picked up the faintest trace of fear in Lola's gaze. She smiled, turned, and left the room.

Lola took a deep breath, realizing what had just happened.

War had been declared. And this time, she wouldn't get to sit around and watch, amused, as Wendy plotted to eradicate her foes. She shuddered and laid back down, hoping to God that Stan would be worth it.

----

The bed wouldn't get comfortable. He'd tried every position. Back, stomach, both sides, with and without a pillow between his legs, laying on the opposite side of the bed, and nothing. He was as awake and uncomfortable as ever.

Groaning quietly in frustration, Kyle flung the covers back and stood up. Cartman was snoring loudly as he slept and in his own bed Stan had a pillow planted over his face; in fact, it was amazing that that black-haired boy didn't suffocate. Glancing over at Kenny, he smiled. Kenny slept like a little kid, all curled up in a ball and hugging his pillow with a serene smile planted on his face.

Pulling a South Park Cows t-shirt on over his head, Kyle slipped out the door and into the hallway. The fluorescent lights glared at him in an unfriendly fashion, and he rubbed his tearing eyes.

As he stepped out onto the slate steps that led up to the main doors of the building, it dawned on Kyle that going out after hours was strictly forbidden. It was strange that this fact had evaded him that long, but it was even more strange that he decided to pay no mind to it once he did remember. He was already out, and with his luck he would get caught trying to sneak back in. Why not just keep going?

Wind whistled through the leaves above him. The moon cast shadows across the path, and he was acutely aware of every time he moved from the darkness to the light and back again. His bare feet made that satisfying slapping sound against the sidewalk as he wandered around the school grounds. It was hard to imagine that 500 people were in his vicinity, just off sleeping somewhere.

Eventually his pace slowed, and he finally stopped. He was on the opposite side of campus, near Shelton Lake. He gazed out at the calm black water, moon reflected perfectly as though the surface was aspiring to someday become a mirror. Suddenly, he was overcome with the feeling to rush down into it.

_No way, _the little Sheila that resided in his head told him. That would be the stupidest of stupid things he could possibly do, along with sneaking out on the first night _and _having already been warned by the head of school about his conduct.

Oh, right. He'd forgotten that part. His skin suddenly felt clammy, but he forced a feeling of calm upon himself. He could always just go down and sit on the bank, right?

Kyle was slow in getting to the shore. There was no rush. No rush at all. Besides the fact that once he got down there, he noticed a particularly girly pair of pajamas lying next to a log. _That _gave him a rush, though not used in quite the same context.

Frozen in his spot, he could do nothing but gaze out at the shimmering blanket of black velvet before him, wondering where the owner of the articles of clothing could possibly be. Finally, he spotted her. She was a fair distance out from the shore, but close enough so that he could pretty accurately see everything she did.

Well, he was glad that he hadn't just gone charging in to the water. That would've been a little awkward.

Kyle found his legs taking him to the left, way, way, left, farther than she would ever think to look for any spectators. He sat down, drew his legs into his body, and watched.

To start, the girl wasn't quite naked, which Kyle found relieving. If he'd been spying on some chick going skinny dipping, he would've felt like some kind of sexual predator. Watching someone do anything in the nude was plain creepy. Anyone would attest to that. He pondered it for a moment, but couldn't decide whether she was in her lingerie or whether she had come prepared in a bikini. The only physical feature that Kyle could half-way decide upon was that her hair was dark-colored. Other than that, there wasn't much detail to notice.

There was something mesmerizing about the way she moved through the water. It was graceful, like watching a ballet. Kyle wasn't one for appreciating artwork. Kenny, surprisingly enough, was definitely the most artistic of the bunch. But this… this he could appreciate.

When he closed his eyes, he could hear the far off sound of her limbs paddling through the water. And when he opened them, he was just entranced by it. He couldn't explain it, and he knew it was weird. But he didn't care all too much.

His eyes snapped open. The dark plain in front of him was now a clear blue. The sounds of the night were not quite so night-like. And the sky was not navy and dotted with stars, but a slightly lighter blue and scattered with swooping birds.

"Shit!" he screamed, jumping to his feet and hauling ass back to the dorm. He burst into the room breathing heavily and was met with Stan's worn face.

"Dude," Stan started, but Kyle cut him off.

"I fell asleep," he explained.

"Where?!" Stan yelled.

Thinking on his feet had always been a skill of Kyle's. "In the bathroom, asshole," Kyle grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"You passed out on the shitter?" Kenny exclaimed, smiling broadly from his bed.

Stan was unconvinced, Kyle could tell. He nodded his acceptance, but Kyle knew that Stan had silently called his bluff. He could sense that Kyle had lied just like Kyle could sense that Stan knew he had not fallen asleep while taking number two.

Kenny was more than happy to accept that, though. "Did you fall in?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh sure, and then I managed to dry myself off using the hand driers just in time to get back here," Kyle replied dryly.

"Really?" Kenny asked, nearly bouncing off the bed. Kyle picked a random trinket up off of Stan's desk and hurled it at the blonde head in front of him. Kenny frowned, realizing that he'd missed the sarcasm. "Well it's still funny…" he mumbled as Stan shook his head at his friend's stupidity.

"Hilarious. Now shut the fuck up," Cartman grumbled from his bed.

"Dude, get up or you're going to be late," Kenny said. Cartman lifted his head off his pillow and snatched his hat from the bedpost, pulling it roughly over the mess of brown hair on his head. He moved to stand up, then sighed deeply.

"This sucks balls," he announced.

Kyle nodded absently, lost in thought over the night before. He was a bit shocked that he'd fallen asleep watching a random stranger go night-swimming. He'd be the first to say that such things were probably indicative of some sort of emotional problem. Plus, the whole concept was just weird. And totally unlike him.

Stan shook his shoulder impatiently. "What do you have first period on Monday?" he asked. Kyle blinked a few times before he responded with, "Honors Chemistry."

Stan frowned. "Why did you get put in Honors and I got put in Quantitative Chemistry?"

"Because I'm smarter than you."

The frown deepened. "Let's go," he muttered.

----

"Aw, hamburgers…" Butters mumbled, bending down to collect his dropped binder and all of the papers that it had ejected. As he reached for one particularly far-off sheet, his fingers brushed a hand that had appeared just as suddenly as it retracted. Butters gazed up into the brown-haired girl's eyes, instantly recognizing them.

"Oh, hey Heidi!" his happy voice rang out. After a night of dealing with Wendy in the worst mood anyone had ever seen her, plus having the extra tension of Red simply being there, so much happiness made Heidi cringe.

"Hi, Butters," she said.

"Boy, it sure is exciting being at boarding school, isn't it?"

"Yea," she replied.

"Anyway, where're you headed to?"

Heidi consulted her schedule. "Um… like, Geometry, I think."

"Oh, really? Me too! Mr. Buckner, right? Great! Let's walk together."

Butters babbled on all the way to class, but Heidi didn't mind. She was just glad that she had someone to walk with so she didn't look like a loser. Upon entering the class, Heidi found herself giving Mr. Buckner a thorough examination. He was bald, with a brown mustache and beard that he kept relatively close-cut, and was on the tall side of the average-height spectrum.

"Names?" he asked.

"Heidi Turner."

"Leopold Stotch, but everyone calls me Butters!"

"…Butters. Right. You're seats are over there," he pointed to a group of four desks closest to the window. The two walked over and dumped their stuff on the floor, plopping into their chairs. Butters continued to pepper her with conversation, and she listened politely.

Heidi didn't even notice that Kenny was in the room until he dropped his bag on the floor next to Butters' chair, giving them both a nod. Her throat constricted and she began to choke on the last breath she had taken.

"You okay?" Butters asked.

"F-fine," she coughed out. Just as she began to recover, Lola sat down in the seat next to her.

Heidi was tempted to ask Kenny if Satan had been planning this during his last trip down there.

Lola gave her a look of pure hatred before flashing a dazzling smile at an unimpressed Kenny. "How's Stan?" she asked. But she was looking at Heidi again.

"Um… fine?" Kenny hadn't been informed of the events that had taken place the day before. "Why?"

"Because she made out with him like a trashy Vegas whore, even though it's not Wendy's fault no one wants to be friends with an annoying bitch like her." Heidi's hands flew to her mouth. It scared her how that was her automatic response.

Lola's jaw dropped. It took a moment to compose herself before she fired back, "Wendy is a conniving slut and you're full of shit if you tell me that it wasn't all her idea in the first place! All she would have to do is open her mouth and you two would drink up anything she fucking said!"

"So would you until about 24 hours ago!" Heidi screamed. Then she gasped. '_No, no no no, I didn't just say that, I did not just say that.' _

She almost cried, she felt so pathetic. And by how Lola had frozen, looking like she'd been punched, she probably felt the same way.

She didn't need to look at Kenny to know that he was sitting there looking like he'd proven a point without saying anything at all.

----

Cartman hauled himself out of the locker room, glad that soon he would be exerting his energy in a particularly violent sport. The first day of classes officially over, it was time for football tryouts. One didn't have to ask to know that Cartman was a defensive lineman. When one _did _ask, the answer was accompanied by, "What the fuck else would I be, an _offensive _lineman?" at this point he would scoff, as if the person asking should have known, "Those pussies never even get to tackle anyone. I'm constantly tempted with the quarterback, for motivational purposes."

Stan saw him coming an inwardly groaned, running a hand through his straight black hair. Cartman never held himself back at practice; he loved smashing through Stan as though he were a teetering tower of so many playing cards.

"Let's go, fag, I'm gonna kick your ass today," Cartman said. Stan smiled at him gamely, "Not on your life, fatass."

A tug on his jersey made him spin, and he saw Wendy standing there. He was slightly disappointed, realizing that he'd expected Lola.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey there," she replied. "Where're you goin'?

"He's fucking going bowling," Cartman responded, muttering something about big brains but no common sense. Stan gave him the mandatory she's-my-girlfriend frown. He smiled back at him, and Stan could almost see the thought of Lola going through his brown eyes. Stan scowled for real now, silently threatening the bigger boy. Cartman looked back before deciding it wasn't worth it and turning away.

"So…" he said.

"Ugh, I cannot believe we are boarding with _Red," _she complained. Stan inwardly groaned again.

"Well, why aren't you boarding with Lola," he asked. Just like she wanted him to.

She screwed up her face in a slightly disgusted expression. "Because I don't want to be in such close proximity with someone who has herpes of the mouth. It's highly transferable, you know," she smiled sweetly at his horrified expression, pretending to be ignorant to it. "Well, have fun at practice," she said before prancing away.

Stan turned back to Cartman. "Oh… _dude…_" he said. Cartman sighed, but decided not to tell him that Wendy had somehow found out about the Lola-Stan experience and was now executing her revenge by burying Lola with disgusting gossip while at the same time punishing Stan by worrying him out of his mind about STD's of the mouth. He'd wait for Kyle to hear the story; the Jew would explain it to him then.

It was slightly interesting that Wendy hadn't just called Stan out on the whole thing. This meant that she was engaging Lola in a battle over her boyfriend, which meant that Lola had probably made-out with Stan for… being replaced by Red in the dorms. Of course. Cartman smiled. He'd need to talk to Red soon for all of the inside information.

Meanwhile, on the field opposite of football, boys' soccer was just warming up. Kyle and Kenny were having a pass, the former carefully analyzing everyone else who had shown up and the latter just… passing.

The coach was walking among the passing pairs, observing everything that went on. Kyle didn't envy him; he had 1 week to decide who made Varsity, JV, and the freshmen squad, and if he didn't make the right choice it would be his head on the parental blame chopping block.

"So… kid," the coach said.

"Kyle," he filled in.

"Do you intend to play with that hat on?" he eyed the green hat as though he didn't trust it.

"Um, yes?" Kyle answered.

"Mm-hmm," he said, his eyes lingering on the article for a moment more before he turned away. Kyle shook his head in confusion and passed the ball back to Kenny.

The practice quickly became a lot tougher than simple passing. They were put through dribbling drills, shooting drills, sets of 5 v 2's inside a little box marked by cones, offensive drills, defensive drills, and a full-sided scrimmage near the end.

To close it off, they did a fitness drill called the box sprint. They jogged down one sideline, and when they hit the corner they sprinted to the opposite corner of the field in a diagonal line. Once, it was fine. Two, it was okay. But the coach – who Kyle decided would've made for an excellent officer in the Nazi party back in 1942 – had the boys do it 15 times. Suffice to say, at the end they were near-death.

Two of the boys had simply fallen over around the 13th go. Many were walking-but-pretending-to-do-it-as-jogging for the jogging parts and were jogging lightly at the sprinting parts near the end. Kyle had finished 2nd, but Kenny had, predictably, come first.

"Nice work, McCormick!" the coach congratulated the heavy-breathing blonde. His eyes swept over Kyle, landing on the hat once again. "Not bad, Broflovski," he commented.

Kyle had his hands placed on the back of his head and was breathing heavily. He glanced over at the football field just in time to see Cartman clobber Stan. Stan was slow in getting up as the coaches looked on approvingly – all they saw in Cartman was a determined kid trying to show his worth on the field.

They obviously did not know Cartman.

A shirtless Kenny (he'd taken it off during the shirts and skins scrimmage and just never put it back on) poked him in the side and smiled. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, he'll be fine."

Kyle hadn't realized that he'd been scowling, which was what gave him away to Kenny. He quickly removed it from his face, but glanced back over at the football to field to make sure. This came off as hilarious to Kenny, who burst out in a fit of laughter. Kyle socked him in the stomach for good measure.

The coach gave a "You worked hard but there's still work to do," speech before allowing the kids to head off. Kyle and Kenny headed wearily back to the dorms, meeting up with Cartman and Stan on the way.

"… I'm just saying, if I have to miss one fucking snap because of your shit I will murder you while you sleep," Stan was telling Cartman. Kenny and Kyle exchanged glances; Stan was pissed.

"Oh come on Stan, I'm just bringing intensity to the practicing aspect of the game," Cartman rebuffed.

"No, it's a personal thing with you, because it's always a personal thing with you," Stan shouted.

"Listen, Stan, if you can't handle it maybe you should go play golf or something."

"You're an asshole," Stan announced. "But I'm not kidding. Watch yourself."

Cartman fanned his face and pulled a fearful expression, prompting snickers from Kenny and an aggravated growl from Stan. Stan glanced at Kyle, muttering, "He thinks I'm kidding…" When he realized Kyle wasn't paying any attention to him, he waved his hand in front of his face. "Dude, hello?"

Kyle shook his head, murmuring, "Sorry," to Stan. Stan narrowed his eyes but turned his attention back to Kenny and Cartman, allowing Kyle to continue doing what he'd been doing before.

He wasn't sure how he knew it was her. It had been night, she'd been far away, plus she'd been in water. But there was no doubt in his mind that this was the right girl.

She was a little ways off, chattering animatedly with a group of other girls. Her hair was the color of mahogany and was stick straight. She was wearing a little white skirt and a striped polo. And Kyle had the feeling that even if he hadn't seen her before, she would've grabbed his attention anyway.

Kenny stopped in his tracks, looking at the group of girls. "Do you see what I see over there?"

Kyle froze.

"Let's walk that way," Kenny decided. When they drew even with the girls, Kyle was sure Kenny was going to make a move, but he didn't have to.

"Kenny!" a girl with wavy black hair squealed, running over and giving him a hug. It was apparent that she wanted to show to the others that she had already become familiar with a good-looking guy. It worked; the others eyed her enviously.

"Hey, Liv," he said to her. His eyes flicked over to the attention-grabbing one, the one Kyle had seen the night before. He flashed her a smile. She smiled back flirtatiously, eyes wandering down to his abs. Kenny advanced towards her to talk, and Kyle frowned.

Liv noticed the exchange too, and a bitter look of disappointment flashed across her features before she turned to the other three boys. "You must be Kenny's friends! I'm Olivia, but everyone calls me Liv."

The boys introduced themselves, and Liv clapped her hands together excitedly. "Stan! Oh, you're the quarterback, right? And Kyle, you play forward with Kenny? Aren't you two and Kenny the best athletes from you're old school?"

'Quarterback' and 'best athletes' drew the attention of the other girls, who, sensing that the dark-haired girl had silently called dibs on Kenny, flocked over to introduce themselves. Cartman's back stiffened and he stalked off, unrecognized and having no attention paid to him once again.

The conversation went on for several minutes before the three boys decided to leave, and farewells were given with much excited flourish. Stan elbowed Kyle in the ribs. "Looks like we have a fan club," he said.

"Too bad you're already in a relationship, huh?" Kyle retorted, an evil gleam in his eye. Stan deflated like a popped balloon. Going out with Wendy was starting to suck more and more.

Having effectively ruined Stan's fun, Kyle turned to Kenny. "So," he said, trying to keep jealous venom out of his voice, "Who was that?"

"Name's Leah," Kenny answered, smiling contentedly. "She's pretty awesome. Got the coolest eyes. They're, like, the color of celery."

"Did you tell her that?" Stan asked.

"Naturally."

"What was the response?"

"She asked if I was trying to flatter her."

"What did you say?"

"Naturally," Kenny smiled again.

"She seem interested?" Stan prodded.

"Who _isn't _interested?" Kenny boasted before Stan punched him in the arm.

'_Yeah, who isn't?' _Kyle thought glumly, shooting Kenny a resentful look that the blonde didn't catch.

----

**Aw, poor Kyle. It's not his fault Kenny gets all the ladies. Reviews?**


	5. There Must Be A Scandal Within Week One

**Welcome back, everyone. Love goes out to **_**Casa Bonita Rocks My Socks**__**water kunoichi**_**, and **_**Nyappy Druggie**_

**This chapter was really hard to write. Dunno why. If it's not up to standard I'm really sorry, and I promise chapter 6 will be better. If it IS okay, that's cool too.**

**Enough pleasantries, on with Chapter 5! I took the liberty of giving Lola a last name. This is not official by any means, I just thought it up.**

**Disclaimed.**

**--**

**There Must Be A Scandal Within Week One**

**--**

_To: _12:55 PM

_Subject: _ Hellooo?

_Hey Stan, it's Lola. Obviously. It feels like I haven't talked to you in forever. Like, almost since orientation on Sunday. What' s up? Well… you're going to the dance on Saturday night, right? I know you probably got all the emails about it… if I don't talk to you until then (which hopefully won't be the case), see you there!_

Stan sighed, fingers hesitating over the mouse pad on his laptop. Making up his mind, he sent Lola's email to the trash can. He'd been extremely wary of Lola ever since Wendy had talked to him.

Kyle had told Stan that Wendy was making it up, so it wasn't the possibility of facial diseases that was repelling him. It was the fact that Wendy knew about the orientation kiss. That was fucking scary. He was a bit hesitant of anything that had to do with Lola. Even though…

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and recalling the events on Sunday. Honestly, he hadn't felt quite the same way about Wendy since. And either he was just being paranoid, or it was starting to show.

A look of defiance flashed over Stan's features, and on an impulse he pulled up a new message screen, banging out a quick apology to Lola for avoiding her and assuring her that he would in fact be at the dance. Sending the message, Stan felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Then he thought of Wendy again, and the weight was back, but 2 times heavier.

He let out a pathetic sigh just as Kenny walked into the room. Kenny glanced at him calculatingly, then, dropping his belongings on his own bed, hopped over to where Stan was. He sat down on the edge of the navy-eyed boy's bed, saying in a maternal voice, "So, Stanley, what womanly issues do you find yourself engulfed in now?"

Stan didn't bother asking how Kenny knew what he was thinking. "Lola just emailed me, but you know how Wendy -"

Now it was Kenny's turn to sigh, his more frustrated than Stan's had been earlier. "Out of all the girls here, and you're having issues with _those _two? Dude, my advice is to forget both of them and find yourself a new interest."

Stan groaned, rolling his eyes. Kenny shrugged and stood up, going over to his side of the room. He spun around, eyeing Stan up, "Wait a sec…" a thought tugged at his lips, and unable to fend off the wave of curiosity, blurted, "you've been avoiding Lola like the plague lately. And now…?"

"Well, _as I was saying, _Lola emailed me… she basically asked me what the fuck was up. But, you know, nicer. And now I feel bad about the whole thing… I mean, so what, Wendy and her are fighting, that doesn't have anything to do with me, right?"

Kenny sighed. "No, nothing at all. Well, besides the fact that Lola is attempting to exact revenge on her ex-friend by stealing her boyfriend. Other than that, nope, can't think of a thing."

Stan considered this, looking troubled. Kenny wondered vaguely what it would be like, dealing with all of Wendy's troubles from the angle of her boyfriend. He shuddered, feeling an immense amount of pity for the relatively simple-minded boy in front of him.

"Nice T-shirt, by the way," Kenny said. Stan, surprised, glanced down at his Pink Floyd shirt, the famous one with the prism and the light going through it. "You like Pink Floyd?" Stan asked.

"Yeah. Especially _'Comfortably Numb'. _That's a good song."

Stan was struck by something that felt an awful lot like irony.

At that moment, Kyle and Cartman walked in, bickering about one of the things they were constantly bickering about. As they got older, Stan found himself tuning their arguments out more and more.

"Up yours, fatass!" Kyle yelled in conclusion. He stormed over to his corner, landing face down on the pillow as he sprawled across the bed. Stan began to count. _5…4…3…2…_

Kyle's head popped up off the pillow and he gave Stan a measured look. "What are you smiling about?"

Stan shook his head. 

"Decided what you're going to do about your public admirer?" Kyle asked, referring to Lola. Kenny opened his mouth to ask Stan how Kyle already knew, but decided against it. The second Stan got the email, he'd probably forwarded it to Kyle to see if there was any hidden meaning buried within it. Kyle was good at finding that sort of thing.

"Yeah…" Stan replied.

"Really?" Kyle and Kenny said at the same time. Cartman said nothing, but paid rapt attention to the dark haired boy.

"Yup," Stan said. "I'm going to give Lola a shot."

"So you're breaking up with Wendy?" Kyle asked, caught by surprise by this new turn of events. Trouble was, Stan seemed just as surprised as Kyle was – this was the first sign that something was not quite right.

"I never said that," Stan said. "Why would I _want_ to break up with her?" Kenny groaned and Kyle buried his face in his pillow. Even Cartman snorted loudly, albeit against his will.

Stan blinked, then shrugged. "Whatever, it doesn't really matter." This satisfied no one in the room. "Well," Stan said, struggling to justify his decision, "I mean, she breaks up with me all the time anyway. So if she finds out, that's what she'll do. And if it doesn't work out with me and Lola, then Wendy will probably be more than happy to get back together…"

Kenny felt a twinge of rare pity for the girl that he so heavily disliked, and Kyle seemed thoroughly disgusted. "You deserve whatever's coming to you," he said through a grimace. Stan shrugged, not seeming to care too much. Kyle watched him closely, and after a moment slowly turned his head away in stunned disbelief.

Not that he believed that, at 14 years old, everyone who was in a relationship knew what true love was anyway, but Kyle felt firmly that these years were crucial in being able to develop an appreciativeness for love. He was also firm in his belief that all the on-and-off nonsense that Stan and Wendy went through was only detrimental to both of their personal developments, and this seemed to be proving his point heavily.

"You're a douchebag, Stan," Cartman announced. Unfortunately, Kenny and Kyle couldn't agree more.

----

"I cannot _believe _her!" Red screamed, hurling her backpack at the open spot on the library couch next to Cartman. She ignored the disapproving glare given to her by the librarian and sat down angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. After a few moments of silence, she whipped her head around to him. "Well aren't you going to ask me what happened?" she asked loudly.

"If I say no will you go away?"

Red huffed, already frustrated, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and glaring at the large teen next to her. Cartman exhaled slowly, placing his books back inside his backpack.

"Enlighten me," he deadpanned.

"She-"

"As much as I fancy myself intelligent, history has proven me not to be psychic. Who is she?" Cartman said in monotone.

"Who the hell do you think?" Red shrieked. Cartman shrugged. "Wendy, dumbass!" Cartman nodded, and Red took this as a sign to continue.

"Everyone knows that Lola's after Stan. I mean, it's common knowledge. But you will not believe what she's planning! She even wants Stan to get in on it too, but you wouldn't know about that because she hasn't said anything to him yet… don't get me wrong, I still hate Lola and everything, but to listen to Wendy talk you'd think that they'd been mortal enemies for 20 years! What kind of person can just turn so suddenly on their friends and be so vicious about it?"

"Don't worry about it, Wendy's in for a nasty shock this weekend," Cartman assured her. "And if she doesn't find out this weekend, then she will soon. Her unhealthy knack for eventually learning everything _will _bite her in the ass."

"Did you plan something and not tell me? I told you to tell me when you thought of something…" Red pouted angrily.

"Nope, Stan came up with this one all on his own."

"Cartman next time you'd better talk to me – Stan?" Red cocked her head to the side, confusion painted across her feminine features.

Cartman explained briefly Stan's decision to experiment with Lola while keeping it going with Wendy. "He's basically evaluating them both in his head and picking a lucky winner," he concluded. Red's face had crinkled up into a look of shock, disgust, and satisfaction.

Shock came first: "No, Stan wouldn't do that… I mean I never knew him too well, but he never seemed…" then disgust, "Oh my, God, what an asshole! I've heard that men are pigs, but Christ, that's just fucking horrible. I cannot believe he could be so…" finally, satisfaction. "Well, that's what they get. Payback _is_ a fucking bitch. And after everything they've done to other people, this is exactly what they deserve. I only wish…" Red's face blossomed into a full blown look of pure glee.

"I've got it." She leaned into Cartman, whispering conspiratorially in his ear. His initially skeptical expression swiftly changed to that of extreme thought. The cogs in his brain began whirling speedily as Red pulled away, hopefully gazing into his face.

"Well?" she asked.

"Not bad," he allowed.

"Not bad?" she repeated, scandalized.

"Yes, ho, I said not bad," Cartman replied testily. "It needs work, and much more thought. But I think we can make it work."

Slightly more pleased with this praise then she had been before, Red leaned in closer to the boy again, and the plotting fest continued.

Across campus, Wendy was still in class. Spanish, to be more detailed. Her face was pulled into a scowl as she scribbled down notes on infinitive verbs, the teacher's monotone voice starting to sound more and more like a drill in her skull.

"Isn't this class terrible?" the girl across from her said. She glanced up, eyes meeting those of a girl whom she had disliked from the start.

She didn't know why she disliked Leah Clovers so much. No, that was a lie. She did know, she just didn't like to admit it. Out of all the people that she'd met so far, Leah seemed to be her only competition for most popular girl in school.

Here was a common misconception about Wendy; she did not want to be popular and have everyone like her. Other people's opinions were unimportant. It was the power that came with popularity that she needed, it was the power that made it matter so much. If she could've become powerful some other way, she would have. But she'd discovered long before that popularity was the only way to become the uncontested leader of everything.

Leah Clovers was pretty; all the guys liked her. Rumor, and Wendy was more than happy to help it spread, had it that she and Kenny had already gotten fairly intimate with one another. She was smart, so she didn't come off as a bimbo, like Bebe did. And worst of all, she knew everything she had going for her and seemed all too happy to use it to her full advantage.

Wendy nodded curtly to Leah's question, quickly going back to her notes.

"Are you going to the dance Saturday night?" Leah asked. Wendy nodded again. "I can't wait, it seems like a great place to get to know people, if you know what I mean," she laughed softly. Nod-nod. "Do you… _know_ anyone yet?" Nod. "Really? Who?"

Realizing that this was not a question that could be answered with a jerk of the head, Wendy put her pen down. "Stan Marsh. The quarterback?"

"Oh, yeah, I know him. Damn," she looked impressed, almost, "how'd you manage that so quickly?"

"I went to school with him before," Wendy replied.

"Oh," Leah, thankfully, went quiet. It hadn't been much more than small talk, but Wendy was fuming. This, she couldn't completely explain.

'_Chill,' _she thought, unnerved by the sudden anger coursing through her veins. Wendy knew this wasn't caused by the apparent jealousy of the girl in front of her. But the fact that she was already so stressed out about the Lola situation probably only allowed for so much leniency on what it took to set her off. It seemed that even speaking to this girl was enough to push her over the edge.

This bothered her most of all, the fact that Lola was getting under her skin like this. She shouldn't have been; what was the worst that could happen between them? It's not like Stan would actually go for her. That, if anything, Wendy was certain of.

She just needed to chill. She was over-thinking everything, was all. Chilling would make everything right.

----

The first dance of the year was not the most popular of the year, nor was it as hyped up as the others, but it did cause quite a fuss in the Shelton community. All dances caused some kind of trouble, and everyone went to all of them, God forbid they miss what might turn out to be the story of the year.

Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman walked into Masland Hall together, chatting aimlessly about some quiz that they had all taken in English 9.

Instantly they were converged on by swarms of people. "Dude, this is going to be freaking sweet!" a kid named Johnny "G-Wiz" Anderson said to Stan and Kyle. They nodded back, neither of them sure where the nickname G-Wiz had come from.

Kenny spotted Leah and made his way towards her, ignoring everyone else who greeted him. The fact that he had been trailing this girl for a week and had received nothing but some suggestive comments in return was not going over very well with him. He was planning on making some kind of move tonight.

Patience was, obviously, not something he practiced with much flourish.

Reaching her, he smiled his adorable lop-sided grin. He didn't miss the look of excitement that passed over her face before she quickly composed herself.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself," she replied. One of her friends shot her an envious look behind her back.

Kenny glanced around the room, allowing the bass from the music to pulse through him like it was an extension of his heart. He grinned down at her. "Why are we wasting time? We could be dancing right now."

Leah rolled her eyes, but looked pleased. "I'm not going to grind with you on the first song, Kenny, but if you want to dance, we can dance."

He allowed the disappointment to spread openly across his face, drawing a laugh from the brunette in front of him. She grabbed his hand and led him to the floor. Already there was Stan, Lola looking adoringly up into his eyes, her hand resting on his moderately toned arm.

Lola had approached Stan the moment he'd walked in, apparently waiting for him. Her face had been anxious, like she'd expected him to show up with Wendy in tow. He hadn't, and she'd successfully directed him to the congested dance floor. At first Lola hadn't been sure whether she genuinely liked Stan, or whether it was all caused by her fight with Wendy. Of course, the fight was what initially drew her to him, but now that she'd taken the time, she began to notice how cute Stan really was. She noticed all his little mannerisms, her eyes opened to his sense of humor, she was touched by his adorable friendship with a guy he been best friends with forever. It was what she liked to call a backwards crush, meaning she'd developed the crush first and supplied the reasons why later.

Lola knew that Stan hadn't broken it off with Wendy yet, and it mildly confused her, although she guessed she could understand. She figured he was still a little confused about the whole thing, and was probably using tonight to find out whether she was serious about liking him, which she totally was. After tonight, everything would be set right… right?

But if Stan wasn't happy with Wendy, wouldn't he have ended it regardless? He surely wasn't the type of guy who would hold onto a girlfriend just for the hell of it, so what was the problem?

It began to gnaw at her. And then it grew into an annoying problem. Eventually it developed into a sheer pain in the ass, and she blurted, "Why are you here when you haven't even broken up with Wendy yet?"

Stan smiled charmingly, "Wendy," he assured her, "is history."

Lola had never felt as happy as she did in that moment. She felt like singing and dancing, the goofy kind of dancing you do in front of the mirror with a hairbrush when no one is around. She felt like, finally, Wendy had received a loss, and that loss had come from her own hands, from Lola Mandoval herself. It seemingly validated every fairy tale she'd heard since she was in elementary school, about heroines eventually overcoming the antagonist and winning Prince Charming in the midst of it all.

"I love you," she said, smiling radiantly. She wasn't sure what made her say it – she'd never say that she loved anyone before; but she felt possessed and it felt appropriate. She didn't regret it though.

Especially not after he replied, "I love you, too."

Behind her, a red-head snickered, moving slowly away from the scene.

----

"Have you seen Leah anywhere?"

"Nah… sorry Ken," Kyle answered. Kenny frowned, moving away from his friend and back into the mass of students.

Kyle was not having a good time. Not in the least. Stan had been making a dick of himself since they walked in the door, Cartman had disappeared with Red, and Kenny had made off with Leah, the girl _he'd _noticed first, who was now apparently MIA. Meanwhile, having been left all alone, Kyle had talked with a couple of guys in his classes and had grinded with 2 girls who were determined to become instantaneously known as the sluts of the grade.

This was not his definition of fun. This was Kenny's definition of fun. But Kenny was – or at least had been – too busy with the only person Kyle was remotely interested in to realize that his kind of fun was all around them.

The unfairness made Kyle want to punch something. Where in the hell was Cartman when you needed him? God knew he was always there when you didn't.

He'd had enough. Turning around abruptly, he left his post by the refreshment table and stormed out of Masland Hall altogether. He was planning on going back to his room, but decided against it. What would he do there? Homework and studying was the answer, and while he wasn't necessarily in a dance mood he did not feel like doing that. Suddenly, he knew just where he wanted to go. It was obvious. It was where he always went when there was nowhere else to turn.

Shelton Lake was just as serene as ever. Settling himself on the bank, Kyle leaned back and closed his eyes, relishing the quiet. From here, you couldn't even here the music that was surely pounding through Masland Hall. Perfect, just –

Kyle sat up and spun around, straining his hears. He knew he'd heard something… he heard it again, a rustling that was much too loud to be caused by any small mammal, coming from the bushes. He hesitated, then stood up and carefully made his way over to the shrubbery.

Every step he took freaked him out even more, until he was about 3 steps away and about ready to sprint off screaming. Defying every bone of good sense in his body, he took the last steps and pulled back the branches of the bush.

He nearly jumped out of skin when he saw someone sitting there. But the fear was rapidly replaced by dawning understanding. There sat Leah, speechless, the evidence all around her.

Kyle didn't say anything. He couldn't. Some time passed, and he heard behind him someone calling, "Kyle? Dude, I still haven't seen Leah. Kyle, what'd you find over there? Anything good?" The joking tone in Kenny's voice wouldn't be there much longer, and Kyle was struck as though by lightning with sympathy for his friend.

Kenny saw it in his face when he approached. The apologetic look warned him, but he didn't know what about. "What's going on?" he asked cautiously, peeking around the branch that Kyle was still holding out.

He felt his face crumble. Felt the smile get wiped out like an artist had gone at it with an eraser, intent on deleting every last trace of happiness from his expression. "Figures," he muttered, and headed back to the dorm room.

"Whas hissprob'em?" the intoxicated Leah asked stupidly from her perch on the tree root. Kyle sighed, bending down to lift Leah up. Not a great idea. The second she attempted to stand, her stomach returned to the surface what was poisoning her body. She vomited for two and a half minutes.

"Christ," she mumbled when she finished, wiping her mouth, slightly more sober than before. She cast a sorry look at Kyle, who bent down again, this time to just pick her up.

She was asleep by the time Kyle reached the freshmen girls' dorm. Luckily everyone else was still at the dance. He placed her on the couch in the main lounge, not willing to risk getting in trouble for going in a girl's dorm (such things were strictly forbidden at that time of night.). He left then, feeling as though he'd accidentally stumbled upon the reason some secrets were called dirty ones.

----

Lola was… somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but she wasn't with him out on the dance floor. Actually, he was pretty sure she'd gone to the bathroom. Well, that was all he needed. Just enough time to keep Wendy happy.

Stan drew his girlfriend into his arms, her black hair so similar to his own, which was poking from beneath his hat, half-covering his eyes. She smiled up at him, seeming to relax in his arms. Relax, that was something she hadn't done in a while.

Wendy sighed, "I've been so stressed since I got here…" she said, "I just want to… calm down. I need to relax a little bit." Her smile changed to a more mischievous variation. "Let's go find somewhere to relax."

"Right now?" Stan asked.

"Yeah, right now," she bubbled up with a warm feeling of affection then, loving that she had Stan's arms to go to when she needed to be held, like that moment. "I love you," she murmured into his chest, burying her head there.

"I… love you, too," Stan stammered out.

"Are you sure about that?" an unfortunately familiar female voice rang out.

Wendy bristled. She growled under her breath, removing herself from the safe haven that was Stan and facing Red. But she wasn't just facing Red.

Standing next to her was Cartman. That wasn't too much of a surprise; they'd been hanging out a lot lately, Wendy had noticed, but she hardly cared. The surprise came in the shuddering form of Lola, who looked close to tears, her hands clenched into tight fists.

Stan looked like he was being ambushed. He locked eyes with Cartman, begging him not to do it. Cartman just smiled maliciously in return.

"I asked you if you were sure about that, Stan," Red repeated. Stan remained stonily silent. Red turned to Wendy. "What about you? Do you think he's sure about it?"

The obvious answer was yes. But Wendy didn't say it. She knew she was in the middle of someone else's scheme, and she, too, remained quiet.

Wendy noticed that they were drawing a lot of attention from other students. "Well, since you're both undecided, let's see if this clears anything up," she almost sang, removing a small voice recorder from her pocket and hitting play.

First, there was just voices and music playing in the background, then two voices rang out, clearer than the rest, closer to the recorder.

"_Why are you here when you haven't even broken up with Wendy yet?" _Lola's voice asked.

"_Wendy is history," _Stan answered.

There was a pause. Then, _"I love you."_

"_I love you, too." _

Wendy didn't scream. She didn't launch herself, nails branded, at either Red or Lola. She didn't start accusing Stan loudly. She did something no one expected. Her back erect, she stiffly turned to look at Stan, for just about a second, her beginning-to-tear eyes meeting his pathetic ones, before she turned and stalked from the place, her pace quickening as she went. Lola waited a few moments and let out one strangled, tortured scream before bolting from the area.

Stan felt like a piece of shit, and deservingly so. But that didn't mean he didn't hate Cartman. He hated Cartman with all his heart, and Red, too. But he couldn't hit Red.

He _could_ hit Cartman. And he did. He hit him so hard that Cartman just remembered falling over, remembered hearing Red's startled yell, and remembered feeling Stan's weight on his chest as he jumped on top of him and kept on punching, long after Cartman lost consciousness.


End file.
